Deity
by silver cat 777
Summary: "...and legends still say that, after leaving a great enough mark in Magic, one's soul can be eternalised and made into a god." The Dursley's gave Harry to the social workers, where he is then carted off to a group home. Someone finally adopts him, and leads him to a very different fate. Now, he works towards an ambition that will leave a mark in history forever.
1. Prologue: Ending and Beginning

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. Anything else that you may recognise as having another owner does not belong to me. I do not gain money from using their respective concepts and characters in amateur writing. All quotes will be cited at the end of each chapter and will be marked by stars (*) in the actual text, one at the start, and one at the end. This applies to the entire story.

* * *

Prologue: Ending and Beginning

_As one man loses wars, another man wins.  
As one man's story ends, another's begins.  
The world runs in circles, 'round and 'round again,  
And we have to watch it, while going insane,  
For we are gods, cursed with immortality,  
But we wished this upon us, blame only we.  
We thought we had earned this 'amazing blessing',  
But fate can keep even deities dancing._

* * *

_Secret Location_

_Saturday, October 31st, 1981_

_19:00_

*"Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off–"* James was cut off suddenly by the suffocating wave of Dark that he felt approaching. He pushed Lily up the stairs and stumbled across the room. Before he could reach the door, however, it burst open by itself. Voldemort cackled. The sound of this sinister laughter echoed up the staircase and through the door of the nursery to reach Lily, whose only thoughts were on, not herself, but her beloved spouse, who was in terrible danger, battling the current Dark Lord, and her baby, little Harry, who was the intended target of tonight's attack, all due to that accursed prophecy.

Lily picked up Harry, who stirred slightly. Holding her still sleeping child snug against her chest, she got ready to apparate to the safe house that the couple had prepared in case of a situation exactly like this, but as she started to spin, she was suddenly thrown back into the settings of the modest nursery. _The bastard put anti-apparition charms around the cottage!_ Lily thought, passionate rage coursing through her veins, heating and cooling at the same time. _Cheater! _She put Harry back down in the crib and got out her wand, activating the last layer of protection that she had prepared for her baby.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" The terrible curse was followed by the same cold laughter that announced the arrival of the psychotic villain.

Lily sobbed, knowing then that her husband was dead. The door banged open as she finished naming the last rune of the ritual. She used a nonverbal, weak Severing Charm at her hand, letting blood drip onto Harry's head. In the second it took for the blood to drop, Voldemort had already entered and positioned himself for duel.

The battle was short, and when Lily was disarmed, she backed up, using her body as a shield for Harry. He laughed again.

*"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please! I'll do anything!"* she begged, knowing that it was hopeless, but attempting anyway.

*"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl."* The Dark Lord flicked his wand in annoyance.

*"Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!"* she tried again with no avail.

*"Stand aside, you silly girl; stand aside, now!"* He's already given her two chances; Severus had better be pleased about this. This just shows that even blood as noble as the Prince's could succumb to flimsy emotions like love. He took a step forwards.

*"Not Harry! Please, no, take me! Kill me instead!"* The voice was laced with desperation. She faltered as he stepped closer, having decided that he would kill her anyway; if the girl was so idiotic as to prefer that someone else lived instead of herself, then she deserved to die.

*"Not Harry! Please, have mercy! Have mercy!"* He sighed, tired of her pleas.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

He wondered why there seemed to be a trace of a smirk as she passed away. Shrugging it off, he turned to the boy that woke sometime during the 'duel'. To think that the baby could have grown up to rival him in power…

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Then, all he knew was pain.

* * *

_Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England_

_Monday, November 2nd, 1981_

_07:30_

Petunia Dursley opened the door to get the foggy milk bottles that was to be turned into breakfast for Vernon and her little Dudley. Instead of the usual sight that greeted her, however, was a basket. Stuffed into the sides were a stack of papers and an envelope with, strangely, violet and gold ink. That was not the most unusual thing about that basket, though, because what the papers were stuffed around was far more frightening. In the middle of the basket, warm and snug in layers of blue blankets, was a baby. Like the normal person she was, Petunia did what any other woman would do; she screamed for her husband.

The sudden and loud noise woke up the child, and he blinked open his eyes. Petunia paled. She had seen those eyes before; the brilliantly green features were carbon copies of her sister's. Vernon looked dumbly at the situation for a moment before ushering her inside, dragging the basket with them.

She opened the letter, which, strangely, was addressed to her as Petunia Evans. Perhaps their kind didn't pay much attention to mere mortals, being ignorant of her marriage like that.

_Dear Petunia,_

_It seems like yesterday that you wrote to me, asking for a place in Hogwarts, but, alas, it was not meant to be. Your sister and her husband have died of a terrible tragedy, orphaning little Harry. I wouldn't impose on your kindness, but this is the only way, for, you see, Harry is in grave danger._

_Let me begin from the start. Late August of '79, a claire-voyante told a prophecy. It foretold of a boy who would be able to defeat a horrible villain in our world. There were two boys that could have been it, but this villain, Dark Lord Voldemort, chose Harry. Halloween night, he attacked Lily and James's home and killed both of them. However, when he tried to do the same to Harry, the Killing Curse backfired on him. I think that it is due to an ancient sacrifice Lily made, but though it may seem like it, I am sad to say that Voldemort is not dead. Even if he was, his followers are still at large, and would want to avenge their Lord's vanquisher._

_Now, there are two reasons as to why I am placing Harry in your home. As I have mentioned, Lily called on an ancient and powerful protection using sacrifice, but it was based on blood. Due to your shared blood with your sister, I was able to recreate that protection in the form of wards around this house. The first result is that Harry will be protected from those who wish him harm, and the second is that you, also, will be protected from those who would wish to harm the Saviour through his relatives, so, in hopes that you will treat Harry as your own, I have placed in the basket official papers which I have charmed to look like authentic Muggle documents in case any legal matters. Worry not about the charm wearing off; it should last or at least seventeen years._

_Sincerely,  
__Albus Dumbledore_

Petunia finished reading the letter and gaped at it. The audacity of the man would alarm any sensible person, but, then again, he _was_ one of _them_.

"No," she said as Vernon also finished reading the letter. "I will not raise that… that _freak_ along with my little Dudley. I won't!" She looked to her husband for approval.

"I agree. We wouldn't want Dudley tainted by his strangeness." Vernon sneered angrily at the strange stationary, wrapping his arm around Petunia.

* * *

_Bishop Carol's Home for Children, Bedford Road, Little Whinging, Surrey, England_

_Saturday, June 12th, 1983_

_09:00_

"What's his name?" asked Bianca Pilliwickle, pointing to the green-eyed toddler.

"Oh, that's Harry, Harry Potter. He's a good kid, quiet, but very well behaved," the matron supplied.

Bianca's eyes widened. "What's his middle name?"

"It starts with a 'J', I think, but I'm not entirely sure. Would you like me to get his papers?"

"Please, I might want to adopt him."

As the kind woman left to retrieve the documents, Bianca mused to herself. It was strange the Harry Potter would end up here, of all places. Of course her status as a Squib would not stop her from knowing the gossip of the wizarding world, but she had thought that The-Boy-Who-Lived had been placed somewhere secure. It just wouldn't do for the Saviour to grow up in an orphanage. No, she'll contact her mother for help. _Yes, Mother would help. We could raise him in the French villa, away from the war recovery, and perhaps his fame._

She walked over to where the little boy was. Kneeling down, she watched as he played with the toy motorcycle. He was flying it over the model trees and mountains. "Vroom, vroom!" he muttered, imitating the revving sound of the machinery.

"Hello," she greeted, "I'm Bianca." When Harry looked up at her, she prompted. "What's your name?"

"I'm Harry," he whispered shyly.

"How are you today, Harry?" She tried to put on the nicest smile she could. Apparently, it worked.

"I'm good, you?" he responded politely, not as timid in face of kindness.

"I am as well. What are you doing there?"

"It's a flying motorcycle. I dream 'bout it sometimes." He paused. "I've strange dreams," he muttered dejectedly.

"Oh? Could you tell me what they are?"

"Well, I always dream about screaming and green lights, but I sometimes dream about flying brooms and green fires with faces in them. The matron says that it can't happen."

Bianca's eyes widened further. "Want to know a secret?" she whispered conspiratorially. When the black mob of hair bobbed quickly, she breathed into his ear, "I've seen flying broomsticks _and_ the green fire. They're real."

"Really?"

"Yes. Actually, let me make you an offer. If you come home with me, I'll show them to you."

"Of course!" Harry smiled brightly, but then, he sagged.

"What's wrong?"

He hesitated, but she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging grin. "Do I really have to come back here?"

Bianca almost cheered in celebration. "Not if you don't want to."

* * *

Quotes are adapted from chapters 9 and 12 of _Prisoner of Azkaban_.


	2. Chapter 1: Beginning of an Egg

Chapter 1: Beginning of an Egg

_How do you compare simple human life,  
__So ordinary, unremarkable,  
__To a butterfly's, where changes are rife?  
__He starts as a small, pale egg, so peaceful,  
__A fleck of dust on a soft bed of leaves.  
__Then he's a thread of green, slowly growing,  
__Chewing through all the plants that he receives,  
__Producing a silk, weaving and sewing.  
__Then, in that white cocoon, he can transform  
__Into the butterfly that he had known.  
__He crawls out as a multi-coloured storm,  
__A bright whirlwind, with pretty hues of his own.  
__Such is the life cycle of butterflies,  
__How we wish to be one, flying through skies._

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Monday, June 21st, 1983_

_12:00_

"On this sacred day, at the sacred time, we call upon Magic, at the twelfth chime," she chanted softly, dripping from her cut finger onto the stone dish held by the sitting child.

"As the clock stands still, we ask this great boon, for an orphan to gain a mother soon," the woman sitting opposite to her chanted, donating magic to the ritual.

"Not only does he gain, but so do I, for I am barren, of that, I don't lie." It was her again, standing, this time.

"So grant this miracle, of old and new, for the heart's desire of the blessed two." Visible magic poured in a shimmering mist over them as the child, too, stood.

She turned the child to face the small patch of woods, and they intoned together, "To the North, there be Earth; turn the cycle of life."

They turned clockwise to the open fields, where wind blew the grass. "To the East, there be Air; breathe life and soul."

Facing south, now, where the manor stood, they said, "To the South, there be Fire; live in home and hearth."

Then, towards the small, tranquil pond, "To the West, there be Water; cleanse and heal our wounds."

Finally, facing each other, "And at the Center, there be Self; honour and preserve the Spirit."

Finishing as the clock started to chime, she took out a ceremonial dagger and cut both of them on the right palm, bringing the wounds together on the twelfth note.

A power rushed through them, binding the hearts and bodies together, and leaving the mind and soul to develop on their own. It was grand, the amount of magic that coursed through their veins, spreading, with each pump of their hearts, through their arteries. Colours flashed across their vision, bright, branding oranges and reds, soft, flowing yellows and blues, and deep lowlights of purple and green. Everything swirled and flowed together, streaking and flashing. They were in blocks of ice and being burned alive at the same time, yet a soft glow enveloped them, neutralising all pain as a light breeze blew. Scents and sounds exploded to their senses, Summer, Winter, Spring, and Autumn together in one perfume, Past, Present, and Future in one tone.

All of this lasted barely a second before fading. The echo stayed, waiting for completion of the ritual.

"I dub thee Hercule James Potter-Pilliwickle. So mote it be!" and the echo, too, disappeared, off to inform the whole of Magic.

The official papers would only register Hercule 'Heri' Pilliwickle, leaving out all connections to the Boy Who Lived, and they would prefer it that way. It wouldn't be until much later that this particular secret strayed.

But Magic liked to leave its mark, and Bianca Pilliwickle's powers were elevated to an extent that she would be legally allowed to use a wand, and Heri? Well, he gained the Pilliwickle sight and colouring, leaving him dark brown hair, paler skin, and grey-green eyes. The scar that the Boy Who Lived is famous for is now only a thin, jagged line whose colour is very similar to his skin. In other words, it would go unnoticed for quite a while. Some who would meet him later would receive a slight feeling of recognition before that, too, disappeared, because it must have been a coincidence for a Pilliwickle to look so much like a potter.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Sunday, June 21st, 1987_

_O8:00_

"_Up, up, up! You need to get ready!_" Danielle Pilliwickle told her grandson in her native language, French.

Heri blinked open his eyes. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes as his grandmother stripped the sheet from him. He was carried bodily from bed and set on the cool oak floor. A snap sounded, and then thin, spidery fingers began to redress him in plain, cotton robes. He wiped his face with a cold washcloth and cleaned his teeth.

Turning to the house elf, he ordered, "_Take me to the ritual preparations, please._" Over the years, Heri had developed a preference for his second language, rarely using English anymore.

And in a gut wrenching pop, he appeared by the pond.

At seven years old, Hercule Pilliwickle was mature for his age. He could read and write at a level equal to that of a first year Hogwarts student. He had tutors in many subjects, and excelled in most of them. Today, though, was not a time of lessons, for it was both his Birthday and the festival of Litha, one of the eight yearly holidays that celebrated Magic.

The ritual will be short, but the banquet that comes afterwards will not. As it was tradition to fast before the noon ritual, there was usually a large dinner banquet in the evening. This year, it was the Pilliwickle's turn to host it for their area in France. It would double as Heri's birthday celebration.

Greeting his mother for the morning, he went into the small patch of forest to gather fallen branches and dried grass. It was lucky that it hadn't rained in a week, or the great bonfire of Midsummer would not be very great.

After finding enough fuel to last roughly twelve hours, he went to help his grandmother with the lighting ritual. It was a square outlined with certain magical components relating to fire. With the timber in the middle, they would have to replace Fire's usual place, the South, with Spirit, or Self. The large shape reached from the pond to the woods, to the fields, to in front of the house, where the three of them would stand.

As a wizard who had not come to magic maturity, Heri would be required to show gratitude by being there, but would not participate.

At one minute to twelve, the three Pilliwickle's were already in place, waiting for the clock to strike noon. When it did, the two adults lifted their wands and chanted.

"_West is Water, purifying elixir; North is Earth, rejuvenating mother; East is Air, giving wisdom; South is Spirit, all-knowing Self, and Center is Fire, which we celebrate, on this Midsummer day, to acknowledge Magic_."

Whichever Element they mentioned started shimmering in patterns as soon as they were named. The pond received ripples on the surface in sparkling lines of blue. Every leaf in the woods took on a brighter tint and winkled in barely discernible veins as the braches received glittering brown highlights. The air above the field filled with three dimensional lines of sweeping swirls in pale yellow, and, looking down, Heri saw a deep lavender glow on his skin.

"_On Litha, we give tribute to Fire. He is the Creator and the Destroyer, one who heals and harms. Fire, bring the new, and take the old._"

As they finished, twisting streaks of red and orange descended upon the wood. It was in the traditional fire-like shape, but it twirled around and around. Soon, the glimmering magic of the other Elements joined it, and, forming a bright, bright light, sank into the branches to become fire.

All three of them felt the drain of magic from their bodies, but allowed it. When they were finished, the roaring flames looked like they had been there for hours.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Sunday, June 21st, 1987_

_19:00_

Most of the Family had come, along with most of the other Families in the area, which added to a surprising sum. Great grandma Aly had come, still ever so elegant, even in her later years, great grandpa Otto with her, presumably dragged along. Great aunt Tia Plumpton couldn't come, since she was hosting her own Litha Ball back in Britain. Grandpa Brabantio got out of his government duties to come, as well, and greeted Danielle with a hug and a kiss. ("You're not twenty anymore, Maman, Father!" Bianca had teased with an indulging smile.) Uncle Rody came with aunt Ana and their son, cousin Montano.

Even the Delacour's came, despite their living half way across the country. Oncle Henri and tante Appoline came with cousines Fleur and Gabrielle. The Féale's came, as did the main branch (the French one) of the Lestrange Family. The 'dead' Evan Rosier also came, as well as the rest of his small family. Many other less well-known Families arrived, too, to the event.

The largest ballroom in the Oceanview House was quite full, though not to the point of crowded. House elves had been labouring all day to create the right atmosphere with decorations. The food was very Fire orientated, ranging from roasted red meat to steaming salamander eggs. Most of the room was done in red and orange, and, through the temporarily disillusioned wall, you could see the great bonfire, still raging towards the sky.

After dinner and Heri's present-opening, one Féale, a young French woman, climbed to the stage.

"_This is the festival of Litha. It is the celebration of Summer, of Fire, and the many things that come with it._" She paused and grinned to the attentive audience, showing straight white teeth. "_With the hostesses' permission and request, I have prepared a story to tell you. It is of one of our Elders, one of the most important men in the history of magic. Without him, Magic would not be what she is today._ "

She smiled again mysteriously, and began.


	3. Chapter 2: Egg has Hatched

Chapter 2: Egg has Hatched

_One thin crack, it pops into existence,  
__Crawls down the pristine, ivory eggshell.  
__Watch as the white triangle emerges,  
__When will we see the hatchling? Can you tell?_

_Egg collapses completely in pieces.  
__A wet chick steps out into the new world.  
__It ruffles its feathers and airs them out.  
__Soon, it flies south, majestic wings unfurled_

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Sunday, June 21st, 1987_

_20:30_

"_No one knows exactly how he came to be. No one knows exactly who he was,_" Lady Pronoia Féale started in French, then paused, smiling. "_That is, except us. __We know because his fate was tangled closely with that of our ancestress._

"_He is a fitting persona to talk about on this festival of Fire, for he has been a masculine authority for many years, now, and will be for many years to come. As many of you may have guessed, I speak of Merlin Ambrosius, the bard, Myrddin, the druid, Emrys._"

She conjured an illusion of a portrait. It was of an old man with long white hair.

"_Some say that he was the child of Magic herself; others speculate that he was the spawn of a demon and angel, but all we know for sure is that he had power beyond all else. His early years were spent in the forest villages, being a well-known bard that could create scenes of the songs that he sang. Later, he studied with druids, learning the ways of Magic."_ Images appeared and disappeared, illustrating the story wonderfully.

"_Then, when he arrived at the castle of Camelot, he was given the task of restoring Magic to our isles by the last great dragon, ancestor of every dragon of today._" A miniaturised image appeared of a strange dragon. It seemed to be a mixture of all the dragons possible. With scales of shifting colours, spikes and wings, a long neck, and a short snout, he had the leading characteristics of many different species.

"_He went about it peacefully, almost anonymously, for under the reign of Uther, a man that fears magic above all else, a wizard had to be careful. Eventually, Arthur, the bastard Prince, took the throne, and shortly after, a French Lady came to court._

"_Some say that she was born with Magic integrated in her very being; others thought that she was half Greater Fey, but the one thing that was certain is that she was a witch of equal power to that of Merlin. Morgana la Fée was revealed to be the elder _legitimate_ half-sister of Arthur, and she demanded the throne. She was refused, however, and became angry._

"_During her stay at court, she stumbled upon the wizard of great power, and was intrigued. Thus Merlin was discovered. She was confused as to why a man of so much power would hide himself, and discovered his task. She was outraged at the knowledge of the prohibition on magic, and went about her own way of righting the wrong. She seduced Merlin and bore his child, a boy of power just as great as herself and the father._

"_She found shelter in a druid camp, and at the age of ten, young Mordred was ordered to find a way to murder his uncle. Now in disguise as Morgan le Fey, an English noble named according to her fairy-like appearance, Morgana then departed again for court._

"_She found her way to sabotage Arthur's marriage by saying that he fathered the child she now bore. In reality, the child's father was an unknown magical. Her plan was for the kingdom to recognise Vivian as the rightful heir, since she had cursed Guinevere to be barren._

"_Merlin then revealed his powers to his liege, and offered his help against Morgana in return for magic to be allowed again. Arthur accepted, but soon, on a battlefield, Arthur was slain by Mordred, Mordred by Merlin, and Merlin by Morgana in vengeance of her firstborn._

"_Magic thanked him, though, for releasing it into the isles again, and deified him, rendering him immortal. Morgana and Mordred were not forgotten either, and they were deified along with Merlin for their contributions._

"_So this concludes Merlin's tale, and legends _still_ say that, after leaving a great enough mark in Magic, one's soul can be eternalised and made into a god._"

Applause rang out in the ballroom, showing appreciation for the difficult magic of illusions and the delightful tale. Heri sat in awe, thinking about the messages of the story.

The large tables morphed into a few smaller ones and two long refreshment stands at the sides of the room. Music started, and the adult started dancing. The children were organised into a small game of Quidditch on the fields in light of the ongoing bonfire.

At midnight, everyone formed a circle around the flame and chanted in French.

"_We thank Water; we thank Earth. We thank Air; we thank Spirit. Above all we thank Fire and Magic, but this Litha festival has ended, and Magic must now leave._"

The flame extinguished and everyone headed home.

That night, Heri dreamed of eternity and grandeur, of ambition and of remembrance. Little did anyone know that, that night, a spark had ignited, and the fire that followed could end all or heal all.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Monday, July 22nd, 1991_

_09:30_

As the shadow approached, a house elf quickly opened the nearest window to let it through. The barn owl flapped quickly to Harry, holding out a letter. It was done in forest green ink with a crest of snake, badger, raven and lion around a large 'H'. The seal was a blood red wax.

"_Your school letter, Heri_," Bianca told him in French as she untied it from the owl's leg, giving it a piece of toast. "_It's from Hogwarts_."

"_Oh… Could I read it, Maman?_" Heri asked politely, pausing in between bites of egg.

"_Of course_," Bianca replied, pushing them gently towards him.

_Mr. H Pilliwickle  
__The Green and Grey Suite  
__Maison à la Vue de l'Océan  
__Unplottable  
__France_

_*HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall  
__(Order of Merlin, Third Class, Registered Feline Animagus, Transfiguration Mistress)_

_Dear Mr. Pilliwickle,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

Pomona Sprout  
Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform  
_All first year students will require:  
__Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
__One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
__One pair protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
__One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
__Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

Set books  
_All students should have a copy of the following:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other Equipment  
_1 wand  
__1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
__1 set glass or crystal phials  
__1 telescope  
__1 set brass scales  
__Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad  
__PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS*_

"_It's in English._" Heri frowned.

"Of course, it _is_ an English school," Bianca emphasised her point by speaking that language.

"_But, that means…_" he trailed off

"Yes, it does, Heri; your friends will not be there."

"_Mais, Maman!_"

"Don't whine, Heri. It never works with me, and it sounds horrible to the ears."

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Sunday, September 1st, 1991_

_18:30_

When the children around him exclaimed at the Hogwarts castle, Heri kept his face calm and mentally scoffed at the display of awe. After they were seated snugly in the boat, he muttered quietly in French, "_This is _nothing_ compared to Chateau F__é__ale!_" He had been there the previous Yule celebration.

"_Oh? Not many children our age have had the privilege to see the famed site._" The boy next to him on the canoe replied just as quietly in the same language.

Heri froze. "_I'm sorry. It was rude of me to criticize our school that way,_" he recovered quickly. Turning, Heri faced him and extended his hand. Speaking in English this time, he introduced himself. "Hello, my name is Hercule Pilliwickle. I do not believe that we have met." He silently cursed his slight accent. English was his first language, dammit!

"Blaise Zabini, pleasure," Zabini replied and Heri nodded in recognition; everyone knew of the son of the Black Widow. The tanned hand that grasped his own contrasted against his pale skin. "Call me Blaise."

"Then you must call me Heri." He smiled.

"_It's not rude if the criticism was true._" A boy from the back said, again in French. It appeared that not everyone here was as ignorant as he had thought. _And that I'm not as quiet as I had thought._

Both he and Blaise turned around.

"Theodore Nott," the boy smiled, "Theo"

"_I agree,_" the last member of their canoe said. "Draco Malfoy, Draco."

As they shook hands again, Blaise and Heri reintroduced themselves, purely for manners sake, though, since the other two have probably already heard them.

At the yelled *'FORWARD'*, they started to move, and the conversation turned to Chateau Féale.

"So, how did you get the chance to see the Chateau?" It was Draco who first spoke in a near-silent whisper.

"Last Yuletide, they hosted the celebrations of my area. Also, I was there the other times they hosted celebrations. I keep correspondence with Aradia Féale, as well."

"I remember," Draco smiled, "that Mother got the invitation for Yule, but it was her and Father's turn to host the English celebrations. I was there once with Mother when she went to deliver a wedding gift to Morrigan Féale, and again during one of her visits with Madame Féale."

"Mother and the Demoiselle Nyx Féale are friends, we used to visit quite often when I was younger, but then Mother remarried for the fifth time to a wizard that wasn't fond of children, and I was sent to my aunt," Blaise said.

They turned to Theo.

"I'm second cousins with Aradia. Great uncle Prometheus married into the Matriarch." He smirked. "I was there for the wedding of Aunt Morrigan."

*"Heads down!"*

Heri ducked with a sneer in place. "I do not know why they did not let us reach the castle with the older students," he commented quietly.

"It's so that the _idiots_ don't get lost," Blaise replied, harshly whispering.

"Don't be cruel," Draco drawled, and, at Theo's snort, he added, "Idiots enjoy staying ignorant about their stupidity."

Eventually, they reached the castle and got the welcome speech.

"So," Heri started, "How does the Sorting work?" He then grimaced as the other students started asking the same thing.

The other three shrugged. "Mother didn't come here," explained Blaise.

"Father didn't mention." was Draco

"Mother just said to get in Slytherin," Theo commented.

"And the houses?"

"Slytherin is the best; Ravenclaw is alright; Gryffindor is for the stupid –"

Blaise interrupted Draco.

"Slytherin is for the cunning and ambitious; Ravenclaw is for the intelligent and the seekers of knowledge; Gryffindor is for the brave and chivalrous, and Hufflepuff is for the loyal and hardworking."

Draco stared at him, "I thought that you said that your mother did not come here?"

It was Theo who answered, "There are many books about Hogwarts. _Hogwarts, a History_, in particular, notes the characteristics of each house very specifically."

When the ghosts appeared and startled half the first years, Heri's sneer just became more pronounced. _Pathetic! At least there are some people who are intelligent enough._ Blaise, Draco and Theo were alright, although Draco seemed slightly arrogant.

At least he was better than the redheaded idiot that Heri shared a compartment with on the train. Ronald Weasley was a very poor excuse for a wizard. The Family of Weasley sure had fallen far in the past generations. They had barely qualified for the title of Noble before, since they were never near the title Ancient. Now, they should not even be considered as a Family.

Thank god the Muggleborn, Hermione Granger, had come, or else he would have been severely lacking in proper conversation. She seemed adequately intelligent.

When it was his turn to get sorted by the Hat (of all things, a hat!), he walk quickly to the stool.

_Dear Merlin! You really are like no other!_ A voice, presumably the Hat's, echoed in his head.

Heri started. _How did you get past my barriers?_

_I'm the Hat, Hercule 'Heri' James Potter-Pilliwickle._

_I should have at least felt you, Monsieur Hat._ Heri ignored the address, frowning.

_I'm the Hat,_ he said firmly._ Now, where shall I put you? Gryffindor? Oh, dear. Godric would not like to hear that; bravery is the kindest synonym of stupidity, indeed. Hufflepuff?_

_True loyalty does not exist._

_Such cynical thoughts for one so young!_

_Are they not true?_

… _Ravenclaw?_

_Knowledge is simply a tool to be used for a greater cause._

_So Slytherin, then? Oh, yes! It's been a while since I've seen an ambition like that, my boy. Hmm. Here's a hint, to find out how, you must ask Magic herself. So, my little snake, off you go to SLYTHERIN!_

The last word was shouted out loud as well as mentally. Heri flinched a little at the noise, but went willingly to the applauding table.

* * *

Quotes are adapted from chapters 4-6 of _Philosopher's Stone_.


	4. Chapter 3: Hatched Little Bird

Chapter 3: Hatched Little Bird

_Chirp, chirp, hoot, hoot, owlet starts to speak.  
_'_When can I learn how to fly?' whines he.  
_'_Patience, my chick,' comes from Mother's beak,  
_'_Soon you'll grow old enough, wait and see.'_

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Wednesday, June 17th, 1992_

_19:00_

The Great Hall was filled with green and silver decorations. Professor Severus Snape sat at the High Table with a smug grin on his face, one that was reflected on many Slytherins' faces. Professor Horace Slughorn looked very proud as well. This year, Slytherin house had won both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, so perhaps all Slytherins should be happy. Heri certainly had a hard time keeping his face blank. After too much struggling, he finally allowed a small lift of the corners of his mouth. The meal tasted extra delicious due to the cheery mood, and he fell asleep instantly when he returned to the dormitories.

The next day, they received their exam marks. Heri passed with top marks, of course. They finished packing quickly and got on the train just before lunch.

On the train, Heri took out a book and pretended to read. He was actually organising his memories of the school year.

Turning inside to his mind, he traveled through the Space Continuum of floating colours that were the useless memories who served to distract an invading Legilimens, and found the condensed sphere in the middle. He opened a door in the Barrier of negative emotions that stopped invading minds should they ever find it, and dived into the Pool of unorganised experiences. He willed them to be in a somewhat chronological order and started to sort through them.

The first was of the Opening Feast.

_He grumbled as he sat down next to Draco and Theo. "I cannot believe that I did not feel the Hat's Legilimency."_

"_It wasn't, Legilimency, I mean. That mind art requires eye to eye contact, and it wasn't looking at you. I think it has to do something with being on our heads. Perhaps reading our magic?" Theo reasoned._

_Draco snorted. "How in the name of Hecate were you not sorted into Ravenclaw?"_

"_Think of it this way; if the Hat decided that his ambition or cunning was greater than his intelligence, then we should be very, very careful." Heri confided as Theo frowned._

"_The Hat gave me a choice, alright?" and they clapped as Blaise came to join them._

He would put that under Things to Ponder, and gave the strand of colour a flick. It sped off towards a question mark covered chest that was mostly empty. He had put the memories of classes in the Library of Knowledge as soon as a teacher finished teaching a lesson, so that was one less thing to worry about. He glanced through the normal, routine nights in the common room and the fooling around at meals; the study sessions were already where the class time memories were. One particular walk through the hallway stuck out.

"_Traitor!" A voice accused. Heri turned around to see Weasley pointing a wand at him._

"_And why," he started in a calmly superior voice, "would you consider me a traitor?"_

_Weasley straightened, not letting go of the shabby wand. "The Pilliwickle Family was always Light, and now you're in Slytherin!"_

_His features wanted to morph into a snarl, and Heri was too offended to care, so he let them. Weasley took a step back, seeing the rage. "How _dare _you!" He spat out. "My Family has _always_ been Neutral! It is an insult to think of them as anything else. Had I been the Heir, I would be able to challenge you to a duel for that, and nothing, not even the ICW, could stop it!" He swiped the rage from his face and turned to cold indifference._

"_As for the implied slight against Slytherin… Do you know how many British Ministers, out of the last ten, were in Slytherin? Mind you, this is the leader of Magical Britain that we are talking about."_

"_None, of course!"_

"_All of them." He corrected firmly. "The last non-Slytherin Minister was one hundred years ago, and that was a Ravenclaw."_

_He smile predatorily, "Now, for Headmasters and –mistresses. Out of the last ten, not including Professor McGonagall, Three were Slytherin, four were Ravenclaw, two were Hufflepuff, and one single Headmaster, was Gryffindor. That, of course, was the _disgraced_ Albus Dumbledore." He turned and paced towards the dungeons._

Heri sighed. Looking back, that was a bit too public for a confrontation like that. He sent the scarlet wisp to the outside of the barrier to reinforce it. The Howler Weasley got a few days later, with a formal apology to the Pilliwickle Family was good. Especially the shade of pink the redhead achieved. At least the former Prewett knew about tradition, a shame their Name died, but that was often the case with strictly patriarchal Families, or strictly matriarchal, for that matter. He sent the echo of the Howler to the useless memories' place outside the sphere.

"_Excuse me," a familiar, bossy voice demanded._

_He concealed his annoyance carefully. "Yes?" he responded to the Ravenclaw._

"_Well," Granger started, suddenly timid, "I couldn't help but overhear the argument you had with Ronald Weasley the other day, and I noticed a few unfamiliar terms. When I asked my roommates about it, they said that it was difficult to explain…"_

"_And you are wondering if I could, right?" Heri deduced. He barely stopped an eyebrow from rising in astonishment. It wasn't every day that a Muggleborn like Granger would reach past her know-it-all façade and ask to learn someone else's culture. She nodded timidly._

"_I am free Saturdays after lunch. Meet me in the library." He turned away briskly._

Heri put that in the Chest of question marks.

He was about to dive into another memory when he was interrupted.

"Heri? Heri!" Blaise called, pressing down on his temples.

"Ow! Don't _do_ that!"

"I wouldn't have if you didn't go into trance with your eyes open… Mother always told me that the only way to wake someone from trance was a facial pressure point." He smirked, the bastard.

"Anyway," said Theo, "it's lunch time."

"Pumpkin juice and a sandwich, please," he told the lady at the trolley, slightly embarrassed.

"So, how many people will be there?" Blaise asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was talking about the Litha celebrations that always doubled as Heri's birthday party. It would be smaller this year, with only a few adults for supervision, since most of them would be at the Lestrange estate for the bonfire. "You mentioned a Quidditch tournament in the invite."

"Oh, well, including you three, there should be enough for at least three teams, most likely four. We've brooms enough; apparently Uncle Rody went through a phase of collecting them. Although, I'm not stopping you if you want to bring your own." Heri paused, thinking. "As for who will come, let's see, Cousin Montano, Cousine Fleur, Cousine Gabrielle, Aradia, Lestrange triplets (Isabelle, Chandelle, and Aleixandre), Rosier brothers (Perseus and Jason), Dunerêve siblings (Arian, Adrienne, and Alphonse), Dulac siblings (Triton, Delamer, and Aquamarine), and most of the Slytherins our year. I'm not sure if they have replied yet."

Theo whistled, "You socialise in well-off circles."

"Mother just picked a good estate when she decided to move out of England," Heri countered. "Do any of you recognise any names?"

"I know Aradia (you do mean the Féale, yes?), Lestrange, and Rosier. And, if I'm not wrong, then 'Cousin Montano' is a Pilliwickle, and 'Cousines Fleur and Gabrielle' are Delacour's," Draco reasoned.

"Dulac is the head of the Wizarding Shipping Incorporated," Blaise added.

"And Dunerêve is the head of the French Prophecy Protection Organisation," Theo finished.

"Good, you won't offend anyone there, then." With that, Heri went into trance again

_It was Samhain night, and he had Flooed home to do his personal ritual. It was a long wait, but he was finally able to, now that he had a wand. Maman and Grandmaman had helped to prepare the necessary elements, so all he had to do was say the words._

"_As the clock strikes midnight, the barrier weakens; let the deceased come back to life. Earth is the cycle of life and death; please rewind the wheel for this eve. Air is the breath of life and soul; please bring back the souls and breathe life into them. Fire is one who renews and destroys; please renew the memories you destroyed. Water is the liquid of health; please heal the hurts of the deceased. Spirit is the symbol of the dead and live, please bring Lily Evans Potter and James Charlus Potter to me tonight." He said as he lit the four elemental candles with pure magic. The spirit candle lit itself, though, as Heri finished speaking. The chiming of midnight started, and violet swirled around him as two people appeared in the middle of the cross that extended from the Earth candle to the Fire, and Water to the Air._

"_Harry?" the redheaded female asked, reaching toward him. Heri quickly walked into the hug._

"_We've watched you, you know, all this time," the male said._

"_I wanted to do this as early as possible, so you could get reborn," Heri replied. _And besides,_ he thought,_ you wouldn't want to see what I might do.

"_We're not ashamed of you, if that's what you think." Lily could always read her son's mind, no matter what he looked like or who he called 'mother'._

"_We're proud, so proud, of what you might become," James added._

_Heri smiled, "That is all I needed to know." And the two people dissipated in the cold night air._

Heri filed it with the Library. The Mabon celebrations and that of Yule, Imbloc, Ostara, and Beltane were sent to the Space Continuum. Many more events went there as well, until he came upon the counseling session with Professor Snape, his Head of house.

"_Come in!" The voice was barely above a whisper. Heri retracted the hand that was about to knock. _It had to be Proximity Charms!

"_Hello, Professor Snape," he greeted._

"_Mr. Pilliwickle," the Defense Professor replied curtly. The office was small and tidy, with two shelves each of potion ingredients and books. The man was writing in a large hardcover notebook, it appeared, when Heri had arrived. _Hold on, isn't that…_ When the Professor closed his notebook, the cover revealed a single slanted wand over a six-spoke crown. The colours were black and silver on ink green._

"_I had not realised that the Prince line continued," Heri commented softly, eying the grimoire meaningfully._

"_Not many do," Professor Snape said as he put it away, mouth in a tight line. "I do hope that you are Slytherin enough to keep that a secret."_

"_Of course, sir," Heri promised as he sat gingerly on the chair that suddenly appeared._

"_Now, Mr. Pilliwickle, I always try to get to know each of my Slytherins, and to help them if they have any troubles." He pressed his lips together before continuing, "Now, what was your pre-school life like?"_

_Heri looked into Snape's eyes. "I was raised by my mother, Bianca Pilliwickle, and Grandmother, Danielle Delacour Pilliwickle. My father was a German wizard who died before I was born. Mother does not like to talk about him." He readied his Legilimency to convince the Professor if it was needed, but stopped when he realised that the emotionless eyes of the man were, in fact, a sign of an Occlumens. He retreated quickly hoping that Potions Master didn't notice._

"_I had many friends in France, due to the social gatherings that our family went to. At the age of four, Grandmother hired tutors for me in Magical Theory, Politics, Magical History, Etiquette, Herbology, Astrology, Beginners' Arithmancy, and Runic Theory."_

"_That's a very well-rounded education. So, tell me, when did you start learning Legilimency?"_

_Merde! Heri swore in his mind, _He noticed._ "I had bouts of accidental Legilimency when I was younger, so Mother got me a tutor who taught me how to control it," he said truthfully._

"_Very well," Snape responded, "Since I would not believe you if you told me that you had troubles in class, with the grades you receive, you may go."_

Heri put that strand of black into a moderately-protected chest within his Library; it was where he put all the less important secrets, the ones of other people. He had jokingly nicknamed it his Chest of blackmail.

He quickly sorted through his leftover memories, pushing the majority of them into the Space Continuum, but the angry, frustrating, envious, or sad memories went to the barrier (unless it was very important, then they got to go into an extremely protected Room of secrets). The moments of true joy, he put into a Chest at the bottom of the Pool, and creations of his imagination or dreams went into their own Hallway. _This year was a success,_ he decided when he realised that there were no more memories left. He blinked open his eyes and stretched.

"Are we there yet?" he ask and a voice echoed through the train.

"_Attention all passengers, five more minutes until the Hogwarts Express reaches Platform nine and three quarters!_"

"Never mind," he rectified sheepishly as he stood to get his trunk.

Soon, the train slowed and stopped, and the four boys got off quickly. Heri had planned for his mother to meet them by the rightmost Floo fireplace on the north side of the station, and headed there straight away.

"Heri!" Bianca greeted when he got there. "_Je t'ai beaucoup manqué!_"

"I missed you a lot, too, Maman." Heri accepted the hug gladly. "If I may introduce to you my friends, the blond one is Draco Malfoy –"

"Madame Pilliwickle," Draco bowed slightly.

"The brunet is Theodore Nott, and you've already met Blaise," he finished.

"Madame," Theo and Blaise said. They were handed portkeys to the Oceanview House, since they were staying for the summer, and the group of five disappeared with a shout of "Oceanview!"

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Sunday, June 21st, 1992_

_18:00_

As the guests arrived, Heri introduced them to his friends, but when they were about to sit down, the fireplace flared again. The girl that walked out was in formal robes, with a pattern that suggested she was an Heir.

"Aradia! _T'es presque en retard._" He teased.

"_The emphasis should be on 'almost', and not 'late', then, if I'm only almost late,_" Aradia Féale replied in the same language. "_Are you not going to introduce me to your friends?_" Speaking in very accented English, she interrupted him as he was about to open his mouth. "But you shall not 'ave to, Heri, for I know all zree of zem." She smiled.

"_Cousin Theo, Blaise, Draco,_" she greeted, turning to the subjects. "_It has been too long since I last saw you. What luck it was for you to know Heri as well as I do, now._"

"Oh?" he said. Turning to his friends, he accused, "_and here I was thinking you didn't know Aradia all that well…_"

"_You said that you only kept correspondence with her, apparently not, when _we_ wrote to her,_" Blaise stated.

"_Honestly, Heri, correspondence? Is that all I am to you?_" Aradia's look of hurt was very convincing.

"_I didn't, I didn't mean it that way, honestly! You'll always be my first friend –_" Heri was interrupted by clapping.

"_It seems we have found the one person that can crack the Mask of Hercule Pilliwickle. I must congratulate you, Demoiselle Aradia. Not many can make dear Heri here lose his composure._" Draco said.

"_I have no friends!_" Heri sighed dramatically.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, October 31st, 1992_

_20:00_

_The Samhain fest was very good_, Heri thought as he headed out of the Great Hall. _Thank Fortuna McGonagall is more sensible than Dumbledore. I hear that, when he was Headmaster, this was called the Halloween feast! Apparently, He also didn't allow students to go home afterwards. Well, he didn't want to, but then the council ruled against it. Thank gods he's gone now._

*"_I smell blood! I smell BLOOD!_"* a hissing voice screamed. Heri frowned, recognising the sound as Parseltongue. He stayed quiet though, knowing the prejudice in England against snakes. After all, they had reason to. The deceased Dark Lord used to send out snakes as spies, communicating to them with the language of the serpents.

Someone in front of him stopped, and he stood on tiptoes to try and see the problem.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. *Enemies of the Heir, beware,*" Draco read aloud from beside him. Raising his voice, he began, *"You'll be next, Mud* –"

Heri had pinched Draco. "I don't like that term," he explained quietly when the blond turned to protest

When the caretaker started moaning about his cat, Heri quickly closed his eyes and put the event into the Chest of puzzelment. He dragged his friends away quickly to the dorms.

"You seem to know a bit about this. Explain, please."

"Chamber of Secrets: legend has it that before Slytherin left the school, he had time to put into the school a chamber that contained a great monster. Only his heir can open it." It was Theo, not Draco, who replied

"Salazar Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin, one of four Hogwarts Founders, Dark Lord to Gryffindor's Light, Parseltongue, married –" He stopped. "Hold on, Parseltongue, that's a blood trait, no?"

"Yes, all descendants of Slytherin could speak Parseltongue, but what does that –"

Heri interrupted Blaise, "Everything! Come here," He Disillusioned his friends and himself. "We're going to find ourselves a monster."

Holding hands, they quietly left the common room. Heri led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I need your Magical Oaths that you will not tell anyone about tonight," he decided when he took of the charms in the shadows of the trees.

Eyebrows raised, Blaise went first. "I, Blaise Zabini, do hereby swear on my magic that no information or impression of tonight will pass from me to anyone else."

Heri studied for loophole and found none. He nodded and looked at the other two. They said the same oath, replacing Blaise's name with their own.

"Alright, then," Heri accepted. "_Serpents of the Forest, your Master calls you. In the name of Magic, I demand a favour of you,_" Heri concentrated on speaking in Parseltongue.

Theo gasped behind him as snakes of all kind started slithering towards them. "You…" he stuttered. "Who _are_ you?"

Heri smiled grimly but ignored his friend. "_Do you know of the name Salazar Slytherin?_" He asked the snakes.

An older Runespoor replied, "_He was the first Master of snakes that came here._"

"_Take me to his Chamber. Do not harm my friends,_" Heri ordered. Long ago, shortly after he found out he was a Parselmouth, he realised that snakes could not resist a direct command from him if he focused and envisioned the order like he would a spell, that and the fact that Parseltongue, like most ancient languages of Magic, was a language of Truth.

"_Before he left, Master instructed us to bring prey to this place, so that his basilisk would not starve._" Another immortal Runespoor commented as Heri dragged his friends along.

"Basilisk!" He was so surprised that he didn't speak in Parseltongue.

The snake seemed to understand, though, and replied, "_Yes, that was what Master left in the Chamber._"

"_Merde! _Alright, I need to blindfold you when we get down there."

"Basilisk?" Draco asked. "That's what's down there? A look-into-its-eyes-and-die basilisk? _That_ kind of basilisk?"

"Obviously, hence the blindfolds," Blaise scoffed as he transfigured pieces of cobweb into cloth. His hands trembled slightly, though, so Heri knew he was afraid. Theo was still staring in awe at Heri, mouth gaping lightly.

"Flies," Heri reminded, and Theo smoothed his face back into the calm that was normally there.

"_All you must do to enter the chamber is to say 'open'; to call upon the basilisk, say 'Slytherin'._"

"_Thank you,_" Heri said, dismissing the snakes. Facing the cave, he said "_Open._"

"Come on."

* * *

Quotes are adapted from chapter 8 of _Chamber of Secrets_.


	5. Chapter 4: Bird Learns to Fly

Chapter 4: Bird Learns to Fly

_Wisps of white flash past, during his flight.  
__Formerly blue sky becomes orange,  
__As night approaches, chasing off light._

_Fly, my child, fly. Flap your wings; fly high.  
__Return soon to your nest. Mother waits  
__For you to come home, so fly, child, fly._

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, October 31st, 1992_

_23:00_

They walked under the light of a _Lumos_, treading softly. Theo muttered softly about horrible luck and Heri's stupidity.

"'Stupid' would be to know that there is something to fear, and to walk right into it," Heri replied. "There is nothing to fear so, therefore, it is not stupidity that drives me towards the basilisk."

When they finally came upon a larger chamber, there were similar tunnels leading in different directions. Seeing that, Blaise cast a violet 'X' on the top of the arching doorway. To the right, there was a large bust of Slytherin, but in the middle, there was someone already there.

The redhead kneeled, back facing them, whispering softly to the huge basilisk. Thankfully, the eyes of the snake were closed. Heri's friends quickly closed his eyes, and Blaise distributed the blindfolds, the three of them putting them on quickly.

"Salazar would weep, to know that his line has fallen to the likes of Weasley's." Heri stepped into the chamber loudly after placing a barrier between his friends and the main hall.

"He would." It was not a feminine voice who spoke, but that of an older male.

"Possession." It was not a question.

"Well, aren't you intelligent…" Heri stiffened at the condescending tone.

"_What would you expect from an Heir of Slytherin?_" Heri switched to Parseltongue.

That got the man's attention (man, because, no matter who he is possessing, the mind in charge was mature and male). "_WHAT did you say?_" Hair whipping around, the figure of Ginevra Weasley turned.

"_What would you expect from –_"

"_I know what you said._"

"Of course, you did. And I assure you, I am," Heri switched back to English. "Now, who are you?"

"Tom Riddle," he said, holding out Weasley's hand.

"Hercule Pilliwickle," Heri introduced himself in return. "That name doesn't sound very… wizard-like."

Clearly this was a soft spot for Riddle since he snarled, calm façade breaking for the first time. Suddenly, the body flopped down limply, and a ghostly figure rose, slowly gaining more and more solidity.

"That would be because my slut of a mother named me after the _Muggle_ she _loved._" The last word was said mockingly. "The only reason I wasn't completely _assaulted_ in Slytherin was because of my middle name and the fact that I'm a Parselmouth." His face turned bitter.

"But I became greater than any of them dreamed. Oh, how they drooled after my power…"

Heri was starting to believe that Tom Riddle had a bipolar condition. "Oh?" he questioned.

Riddle laughed, "I shouldn't tell you this, but, Little Cousin, you'll help me, won't you?" Without waiting for an answer, Riddle started writing in front of him with a wand.

*TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE*

He flicked and the letters rearranged themselves.

*I AM LORD VOLDEMORT*

"Clever," Heri said. "And, here, I was thinking that the Dark Lord snatched his name from thin air." He paused, "One more question, is it supposed to mean Flight of Death or Flight from Death?"

Voldemort frowned. "Doesn't matter either way, I am both." He waved his hand and the words vanished. "You should leave soon."

"What about you?"

"I'll stay and drain this Ginny's life to come back amongst the living."

"And the basilisk will stay down here for another hundred years?"

"It will."

"Then I hope to see you soon, Cousin."

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Monday, October 31st, 1994_

_19:00_

"I'm glad that Father lowered the age restriction. Who do you think it'll be?" Draco whispered to Heri as the Goblet of Fire flared ice-blue. As it returned to the ruby colour of before, it sparked and spat out a piece of parchment.

"Victor Krum!" Professor McGonagall read.

Durmstrang cheered.

The next name was from Beauxbâtons. "Aradia Féale!"

Heri tensed. "She didn't tell me that she would enter!"

When McGonagall read out "Hercule Pilliwickle", though, Draco snorted.

"Did you tell her you would enter?"

Heri rose steadily and walked to the High Table at the cheering of many students. Last year, despite being a third year, he placed third in the Dueling Club, only after two seventh years. No one could claim that he wasn't worthy.

When time came, Heri recruited the snakes' help to find out about the First Task (Dragons? Honestly?), and passed it easily, tied with Aradia for top place. Krum was only one point behind them.

Went he found out about the Yule Ball, he quickly made up a plan. It was a snowy day when he caught Aradia outside the Owlery. She was shivering slightly from the cold. Southern France did not require the winter gear Scotland did. He took out a pair of silver gloves that he had in his pocket, and handed them to her.

"_You should have come more prepared,_" he said to her in French.

She turned away. He insisted. "_What do you want?_" she demanded.

"_Ari –_"

"_Don't call me that!_"

"_Why shouldn't I? You're my first friend, and my best, always were, always will be._" Heri smiled when she accepted the gloves. He continued, "_And… what your Lady mother suggested last year… I was thinking, perhaps we could give it a try?_"

"_What do you mean?_"

Heri frowned. "_Don't toy with me; I know that you're not stupid._"

She smirked through her silk scarf. "_I know that you know. I just want you to say it._"

Heri didn't know whether it was his new-found hormones, or the teasing whine that she used, but he was suddenly a blushing mess. "_Will –will you… Will you go to the Ball with me?_"

He was hugged, and as she left, a whispered "_Yes,_" echoed in his mind. He quickly stored this under his Chest of joy.

He was in a daze all the way down to the dungeons, and his 'friends' didn't help the matter when he told them. It wasn't until dinner that he realised he forgot to send his letter.

The second task was simple, although it took him a while to translate the screeching; the flurry of Yuletide had distracted him. He simply asked Professor Snape for Gillyweed when he found information on the plant. He was slightly confused when he saw Hermione, Gabrielle, and Theo in the lake, since they were all good friends of his, but then he remembered that Aradia's best friend was Gabrielle, and that Krum took Hermione to the Ball. He was first to return from the lake with Theo in tow.

Despite him and Aradia being ahead in points, though, Krum was the one to take first place. However, Heri still insists that Krum cheated by blasting his way through the maze, and not actually finding the way to the cup.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Thursday, June 22nd, 1995_

_08:00_

Heri woke up to soft lip upon his own. He leaned into it automatically, and then withdrew, making sure that he was kissing the right person.

"Ari," he smiled.

"_I wanted to wake you…_"

"_My breath smells bad._"

"_No, it does not_."

He took that as an invitation, and sat up to properly snog his girlfriend. Oh, how good it feels to say that! _My girlfriend,_ Heri tried again in his mind. _Mine_.

They were soon interrupted, however, by an owl. When they ignored it, it started pecking at Heri. He leaned back and scowled at the creature, untying a package from the leg. _A bit too late for Birthday gifts, now, isn't it?_

He tossed it aside and was about to go back to the snog when the owl pecked him again.

"_What do you want?_" The owl held out the package again. Heri sighed impatiently and cast an apologetic look at Aradia. She waved him on to open the parcel. It contained a snake-like chain with an ornate skull hanging from it through the mouth. Heri sighed. _Very inconspicuous,_ he quickly transfigured the skull into a balance, the main Pilliwickle crest symbol. A note floated to the ground. Heri picked it up, reading, "Meet me where we first met on 2nd of September, 22:00."

He promptly decided that the Dark Lord had horrible timing.

Back at Hogwarts for the term, Heri bribed Peeves to annoy Myrtle enough for her to go away, all just to reach the sink that was out of order.

"_Open, stairs, light,_" he hissed, and after three steps, "_close._"

The descent was strange, considering the tunnel was barely taller than he was, and the sickly light did nothing to calm his curiosity. When he reached the bottom, the chamber was already lit.

"When I was young," Tom began, "I did something inexcusable, something that offended Magic herself. I did the most horrid things with the one thing that assured my life, my soul," Tom Riddle was in his Marvolo Thomson façade.

Marvolo had shown up in Heri's second year at the Ministry, demanding to take both his OWLs and NEWTs. When he passed with amazing marks, he claimed to be the Lord of Slytherin and demanded the power that came with it. His story was that his mother was a Muggle descendant of the squib line of the Noble and Ancient House of Slytherin, and that his father's magic blood revived the blood traits. Marvolo was homeschooled, but his parents died recently, and he traveled back to Britain.

"As I took the life of dear Ginny Weasley, Magic came to me, and she _scolded_ me." Marvolo finally looked up, eyes impassive. "She told me to find my Horcruxes, and absorb them. So I did, for, when Magic ordered you to do something, you did it."

He paused, staring intently into Heri's eyes, pushing forwards and into the teenager's mind. "So, Little Cousin, imagine my surprise when the last soul link led me right to you."

* * *

Quotes are from chapter 17 of _Chamber of Secrets._


	6. Chapter 5: Fly High

Chapter 5: Fly High

_Soar the skies and flap your wings;  
__Look to see above all things.  
__Fly so high, they can't deny  
__That you're the king of the sky.  
__But eventually, you land,  
__For gales you cannot withstand,  
__Yet you wait, patiently still  
__To practise and retain skill._

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, September 2nd, 1995_

_22:00_

Heri stepped back as if receiving a physical blow. "I," he tried, "I don't –you made _Horcruxes_?" He looked at the Dark Lord incredulously. "Not just stopping at ripping your soul apart _once_, but doing it _multiple_ times?"

"Yes, yes, it was an idiotic thing to do, moving on." Marvolo suddenly seemed like the chastised schoolboy again, and Heri rethought his dismissal at a bipolar condition. "Why are _you_ a Horcrux?" he insisted.

"I don't know," and Heri didn't, not completely, anyway. He thoughts tumbled through his mind like a waterfall. Voldemort had attacked him as a baby, and something that someone did prevented the Killing Curse from, well, killing him. All he had left from that night was a curse scar. Voldemort disappeared, presumably dead the same night. Conclusion: there was a protection put on him so strong, that the killing curse didn't just nullify, by was actually bounced back at Voldemort. _But what did that have to do with anything?_

_Think, think, think!_ If the Killing curse bounced back at Voldemort, then –

"Hold on, exactly how many Horcruxes did you make?" Voldemort looked at him strangely but answered the question.

"The diary I used to possess Ginny Weasley, a ring that was a Family heirloom from the Peverell's, the Slytherin locket, the Hufflepuff cup, the Ravenclaw diadem –"

"You found the lost diadem of Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," Voldemort dismissed impatiently. "That's it. That's all I made. I was going to use the murder of that Potter brat to make another one, but I couldn't really do that, after he killed me."

"So, you went to the Potters that night (Why did you, anyway? They weren't the worst threat to you), planning to make a Horcrux. Do you mean that you had already gone through the rituals and preparations for it?"

"Yes, but I don't see how that –"

"Shut up, I'm thinking." So Voldemort already went through the rituals… That means that the soul was already half separated, and when his own Killing Curse bounced back to him, destroying his soul's vessel, and technically killing someone, the soul severed completely. The larger piece floated off to go find his first Horcrux, the diary, and convincing Lucius Malfoy to put it back in the school (as Heri found out later in his second year when he stayed at Draco's for Yule), but the smaller piece was attracted by the most magical object in the room, Harry himself. He snapped.

"Got it." Voldemort scowled at his smile.

"Care to share?"

"So, the rituals don't just prepare your soul for separating, they actually start to sever the soul. It just needs a little push of murder to go into two completely separate pieces. The night you went to the Potters, the Killing Curse that you fired at Harry Potter didn't just scar him, it scarred him and bounced back at you, killing your body. Correct?"

"Yes…"

"Technically, that counts as killing someone, so your soul separated. The bigger piece went on to find a Horcrux, but the smaller piece was attracted to the most magical objet in that room, Harry Potter."

"So why am I _here_? The Potter brat is missing because of the idiot, Dumbledore." Heri smirked.

"Do the True Name Spell on me."

Voldemort's eyes widened almost comically. He obeyed.

Hercule 'Heri' James Potter-Pilliwickle

"You… you're… you're Harry Potter!"

"Shh… It's a secret." He smirked, waiting.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Heri ducked, having expected something similar, "_Expelliarmus!_" He caught the wand neatly. "Why do you want to kill _me_?"

Voldemort's scowl was terrifying as he contemplated his options. "Prophecy."

Heri looked at him. "A prophecy?" he asked, incredulous. "You believe in that? Did you see it in your tea leaves, or something?"

"No! A spy overheard a Seer talking to Dumbledore."

"A true Seer?" At the Dark Lord's nod, he asked, "What did she say?"

"*The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the –.* That's all I know."

Heri went over to the wall to bang his head a few times and returned to the petulant man. "You went to kill someone on the basis of a prophecy that you didn't hear the completion of?" His voice rose with every word until it was but a squeak. He buried his face in his hands, calming his features.

"Well," he started again. "You don't have to kill me now. I was reborn on Litha, so I don't fit the criteria anymore."

He paused, twitching the hand that held to stolen wand. "Promise you won't kill me?" The other man nodded. Heri hesitated.

"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, do swear on my magic, that I will not seek to kill one Harry Potter, also known as Hercule James Potter-Pilliwickle and Hercule Pilliwickle unless he tries to kill me." Voldemort raised an eyebrow as if to ask, _Happy?_

Heri tossed back the wand. "So," he said conversationally. "Who was this Seer?"

"Sybil Trelawney," the Dark Lord replied, seemingly bored. And Heri went back to teaching the Dark Lord the meaning of common sense and research.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Thursday, February 1st, 1996_

_12:00_

Imbloc was a good Day of Power to do this, Heri decided. The significance of this day was that it was the beginning of a new harvest cycle. It was a day of starting things, and it was fitting that he should use it to start to progress in his ambition, instead of just thinking about it.

He had not forgotten the Sorting Hat's hint to him, despite the four-and-a-bit years that has gone by since then, but Heri knew that this ritual needed a more stable soul to draw magic from, and not one that has only had eleven years to settle in his physical body. He was reaching sixteen, though, and his soul and magic have had time to settle, so he could fuel this ritual properly.

He had inscribed very powerful runes and characters into the circle he used. It was in the same place he did most of his rituals, the perfectly planned clearing with the naturally Element oriented directions. It was a Circle of Knowledge, adapted from a textbook he had. He added the four Elements at the cardinal directions as well as a smaller circle he would stand in composed of alternating carvings of Spirit and Magic.

He stood, turning and naming all of the runes, one by one as they passed before him. He pushed as much magic as he could spare into each monosyllable. They rose into the air in different shades. When he started on the inner circle, the outer circle had already started to turn, shades bleeding together. At last, when Heri said 'so mote it be', everything rushed together, surrounding him in a cloud of greater magic than he could dream of. All he could see was black and white flashing together, creating a very interesting shade of gray and silver.

He was suffocating, but the way one would suffocate on fresh air after a week confined in a small cupboard. And then it all condensed into one single being. They were in his mind, and Magic had manifested into a woman. _Perhaps the French had it right, making the noun 'magic' feminine._ That was, after all, where he had picked up the habit of referring to Magic as 'her'. They were in the middle of his Library, just beside the Pool.

She was beautiful in a strange sort of way. Her hair fell to trail behind her, a flowing river of black. Her skin was the color of snow, a luminescent colour with the same shimmer snow had under full moon. Her features were blurred, and she was draped in silk of the colour of everything. And, oh, what a colour it was! It was anything he wanted it to be, yet not at all. It was the colour you saw when you see nothing. It was the gap between time and space, a colour that was everywhere, and nowhere. Yet when he would open his eyes later, he wouldn't be able to remember it.

Hercule Harry James Potter-Pilliwickle.

He frowned; he didn't think that.

No, you didn't.

Now he _definitely_ did not think _that._

Hello Heri, I'm Magic.

Hello?

Yes, greetings, my child.

It was a strange way of communicating, almost like a conversation between yourself, but one of your Selves, well… weren't you.

That's because I am more than just you, and you are more than just a part me, my child, just like every other creature of the Elements.

So everything, then?

He laughed. (Well, she did, but same thing, really.)

He laughed again. That's the spirit! So, my child, you have come upon a very difficult ambition.

He knew.

It is the path to all sacrifice. In fact, it will be the biggest sacrifice any sentient being can make.

If the others could do it, so could he.

So you could… but will you?

Of course!

Do not be so sure, my child. The world is cruel, for it must be, to be the work of everything and nothing.

He waited.

The legends were right. One must make a big enough mark in Magic, or, as you now know, the world, to start their way to this ambition.

Only start?

He laughed.

And blinked to see the clearing back the way it was before starting to even prepare for the ritual.

He waited, for what, he didn't know, but he waited.

Then, suddenly, knowledge flooded into his Library, beautiful, beautiful knowledge, and he knew what he must do before contacting Magic (or his subconscious, his instinct, impulse, and everyone else's) again.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, April 6th, 1996_

_08:00_

From the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ of 6 April, 1996:

_NICOLAS FLAMEL DEAD_

_Yesterday evening, famed alchemist, Nicolas Flamel, was found dead along with his wife, Perenelle, in their home. Signs point to simultaneous heart attacks. There are many questions, now, as you can imagine. The most prominent ones are demands to how this could be possible, seeing as the Elixir of Life, produce by the Stone, gives its drinker(s) perfect health. Others have gone further to ask whether if this is some ancient type of dark magic, to kill without any artificial traces, since whatever that killed the couple, didn't even leave a magical aura. Further investigation will follow, but this humble reporter can't help but wonder if our Ministry can really protect us, if there are criminals powerful enough to kill the famed Light Lord. Some think that this is connected to the jailbreak of Dark Lord Grindelwald.  
__By Rita Skeeter_

_To read more about…  
__-The life of Nicolas Flamel, go to page 3  
__-The Philosopher's Stone, go to page 4  
__-The life of Perenelle Flamel, go to page 8  
__-The jailbreak of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, go to the second half of this page_

_DILY-PROPHET-DAILY-PROPHET-DAILY-PROPHET-DAILY-PROPHET-DAILY-PROPHET_

_GRINDELWALD OUT OF NURMENGARD_

_Yesterday night, Germany sent out a distress signal when the alarms of Nurmengard sounded, informing them that the Dark Lord Grindelwald had escaped his exile. This reporter wonders why someone would help a wizard of the age one hundred and fourteen out of prison; is it not pointless? It is, unless one had water from the Fountain of Youth… or better yet, the Elixir of Life. One would think that the deaths of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel were more than just 'simple' murder; perhaps there was a larger plan involved, too.  
__By Helios Beamish_

_To read more about…  
__-The rise and fall of Gellert Grindelwald, go to page 5 and 6  
__-The prison, Nurmengard, go to page 7  
__-The deaths of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, go to the first half of this page_

Heri frowned, and started to pen out a letter. "_Portus,_" he muttered, and threw it in the air to disappear.

_To Marvolo Thomson_

_Dear Cousin,_

_The front page of the Daily Prophet concerns me greatly. I hope you are doing well enough in your political movement to not need external help. What have you been up to lately?_

_Yours,  
__James Hercules_

Tom laughed as he mentally translated the letter. 'Go read the newspaper. Did you do it to further your own ends?'

When Tom finished doing as told, though, his amusement disappeared. He quickly wrote back.

_To Heri Pilliwickle_

_Little Cousin,_

_The news on the front page of the Daily Prophet was startling. I've been doing quite well lately in my project, although I expect some problems to appear soon, due to the panic of everyone over the recent problems._

_Yours,  
__Thomas Flight_

Heri got the response just before class, brought by a non-Hogwarts house elf.

'I am just as surprised as you are. I was doing well until this came up. Grindelwald will cause trouble.' He frowned deeply. This was not good. Not good at all.


	7. Interlude: High you Go, Far you Fall

Interlude: High you Go, Far you Fall

_On thin glass at the top of the world,  
__One misstep, one dropped ball, means your fall  
__On thin glass at the top of the world,  
__One blunder or one slip can end all_

* * *

_Azkaban Prison, Unplottable Location_

_Monday, June 14th, 1983_

_08:00_

"Minister, are you done with your newspaper?"

Cornelius Fudge jumped slightly. It was Sirius Black who had spoken, looking very sane for one who had been surrounded by dementors for almost two years. _But then again,_ he thought, _this is Sirius Black._

"Yes," he replied.

"Then could I please read it?"

"Sure." Cornelius was almost used to this exchange by now, he had been Minister for barely a year, but during every single one of his bi-monthly inspections of the prison, this one prisoner had always asked for his _Daily Prophet_.

_DUMBLEDORE ADMITS, HE'S LOST THE SAVIOUR_

_Yesterday, the Ministry received an anonymous notice suggesting that Albus Dumbledore, famous Light Lord, did not know where Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was. Albus Dumbledore had firmly refused for the Last Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter to be read, as was his right as Chief Warlock. Instead, he himself took the Potter baby to, presumably, leave him with a family and insure his safety through anonymity. The Ministry of Magic had been prepared to ignore the message when Othello Pilliwickle spoke up. He is the Judge of the Council of Magical Law (and subsequently a member of honour in the Wizengamot, having taken over from Bartemius Crouch Sr. recently), and also the son of the famed former Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Justus Pilliwickle. When authorities pushed to investigate, Dumbledore finally admitted that he had lost the Saviour. In this reporter's humble opinion, it is perhaps that the Headmaster of Hogwarts may not be as great as we all seemed to think.  
__By Helios Beamish_

_To read more about…  
__-Harry Potter, go to page 3 and 4  
__-Albus Dumbledore, go to page 5 and 6_

A rage started smouldering in his core, and Sirius's sanity returned completely. Harry, his Harry, had been lost by Albus Dumbledore. He would pay. Oh, that bastard would pay.

A few days later, he was called upon for proper trial. To say that he was surprised would be an extreme understatement.

"Brought to our attention by the Last Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter, the Council of Magical Law has come to a conclusion that some of the crimes the prisoner has been accused of may have been the work of another criminal," announced the judge. "That coupled with the fact that the prisoner, Sirius Black, never got a trial, overcame the seemingly concrete evidence against him." The dicta quill in the corner scribbled the words down furiously.

"Does the prisoner agree to Veritaserum in questioning?"

Ah, hell, what had he to lose? "Yes."

A man came as he opened his mouth, dripping three clear drops of liquid down his throat.

His head fell back against the stone chair, and he felt his eyes close. Even when he opened them again, he could not see.

To test the potion, the administrator of it asked, "What is your full name?"

"Sirius Black VII." It was Black Family tradition to not have middle names. Sirius could remember his mother calling it a 'filthy Muggle tradition for the overpopulated Lines. The Black Family must not have too many Lines to its name, or we might become confused with lesser Mudbloods.' May Fortuna kindly curse the soul of his mother when she went before the council of the dead, and may Pluto choose a fitting punishment for one so foul.

"Did you betray the Secret of the location of James and Lily Potter to the fallen Dark Lord?" that must have been the prosecutor.

"No." The word fell from his mouth.

"Did you kill the twelve Muggles that witnessed your confrontation with Peter Pettigrew?"

"No."

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"No, he is not dead." Shocked gasps sounded, but Sirius could not bring himself to care. He elaborated. "Peter killed the Muggles with his hand behind his back, cut off his own finger, and turned into his rat Animagus form to escape."

"Do you realise that Peter Pettigrew is not registered in the records as an Animagus?"

"I do, but he is."

"What proof do you have?"

Sirius was trying to close his mouth at that question, but it was Veritaserum, so he relented. "I have seen him transform many times, and I helped him achieve his form after achieving mine." Gasps again.

"Are you saying that you are also an Animagus?"

He struggled more for a moment, but his will was taken from him when he answered, "Yes."

"What form do you have?"

"A black dog." He didn't even bother fighting this time.

"Did you commit any crimes using this ability?"

"I did not break any other laws than those concerning the Animagus ability." It was true, and the strange way he answered would be put down to the vague question.

"That is all, Your Honour."

The jury fell into hushed whispers as he waited for the dose of potion to wear off. He used that time to think. He had cleared his name of the crimes he was accused of, and the worst that could happen from revealing his animagus ability was a few fines that he could easily pay off, since he wasn't completely expelled from the Family (him confirming his hated last name being an indication).

* * *

_Courtroom Ten, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London, England_

_Saturday, June 19th, 1983_

_10:00_

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you have shown, through you inability to handle a very important task, that you are not fit to be in a position of power. Therefore, it is the Wizengamot's decision to remove from you the titles of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Furthermore, we will require a retesting for Grand Sorcerer." Cornelius fudge seemed almost gleeful as he announced the downfall of the formerly-great Albus Dumbledore to the witnesses and the Wizengamot.

"So be the will of the Wizengamot, so be it done," the members of the greater judicial assembly chorused together.

Albus knew that this would happen as soon as the papers came out. He thought that he had gotten off quite lightly, actually. The trial he went to yesterday for the Council of Magical Law had been over the misuse of powers; an insurance company sued for his use of the Potter's Godric's Hallow cottage as a public historical site. The official legal representative of the Potter's had also joined in it for his suppression of the Last Will and Testament. He had to pay quite a large settlement for that.

It was then that he realised he had failed to change Magical Britain through politics. It was time for force. He still had quite a bit of money left over from his more successful days, and would be able to plan in silence for a while. He _would_ make his move, though, just as soon as he got everything ready. No one would know that it was him behind the problems until it was too late.

* * *

_From the journal of Morgana la F__é__e (373 BC- present)_

_Imbloc, Age 34_

_I did the Circle of Omniscience today. Mother warned me against it (my real mother, not the nobble lady whose daughter I replaced as a child, but perhaps that identity will become useful later on), telling me that no one who underwent this survived for more than a year before going insane. I was too proud, though, to heed the words of Queen Titania and did so anyway. She did convince me to add tributes to the Elements, though. I put them at the cardinal directions, as always._

_So much magic in my life, being the half fey child taught to hold her Channel before her spoon, made to practise her magic before her embroidery. It was only second nature to take magic as granted. But in my mind, during the ritual, I met _her_. She was everything and nothing, the omniscient, omnipotent being that so many worshipped without realising. She was the voice of reason at the back of your mind, the feeling of just knowing something._

_She told me of greatness, of grandeur, of the potential I had. She told me of what I must do, and I set about doing it, for she is Magic, the greatness of everything and the weakness of it, everything and nothing. She told me the story of the gods and goddesses, of glory and fame, of possibilities that could be taken. And then she gifted me with what I wanted, the omnipotence I created the ritual for._

_She gave me something extra though, the ability to choose what I wanted to know, so long as it was not in the future. She warned me that total foreknowledge was what drove the ones before me mad, and said that I would have to trust her completely to let the future be. She would send me the knowledge I needed. My children will share my gift, every single one that bore my appellation. The la F__é__e family will be great. And that's more than I could ever hope for._

_My time is coming, though, I can feel it. Or, rather, she told me, for though no being could ever be all of her, she is part of every being. Through the sentients, it would be their sixth sense, their subconscious, whatever you would call it, the little feeling you get that tells you what you're about to do is stupid, or good. Some would cloud her with their own thoughts and then call it conscience, but I know better, for as long as you are grateful of what she gives to you, nothing is wrong._

_I await the next time she comes, for, when she does, I will be prepared to do the impossible, to make the sacrifice that stopped so many. I will succeed where so many have failed. I will be immortalised through more than just name. I, however, will not be stopped, for I will always be Morgana la F__é__e, soon-to-be goddess, and my legacy will change the world._


	8. Chapter 6: Fall to a Stop

Chapter 6: Fall to a Stop

_Air rushing past so quickly,  
__Branches scratching and clawing,  
__Accelerating slowly,  
__At last, you slow, cord tensing._

_You bounce back, rising again.  
__Branches fall around you, now.  
__You wait patiently, and then,  
__Once more you are falling, slow._

* * *

_Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England_

_Sunday, April 28th, 1996_

_13:30_

"My Lord," the cloaked figure began, bowing slightly. "The ministry have one suspect for the interesting cases of the seemingly connected Flamel and Grindelwald mysteries."

"Oh?"

"It is not solid proof, but, when they investigated the fourteen magicals in Europe with the ability to pull this off, only one Lord did not have an alibi for the three hours."

"That doesn't mean anything. If they were Lords and Ladies of that level, then they could have easily gotten someone else to do it."

"But, my Lord, it was Dumbledore."

He stopped scribbling on the piece of parchment and looked into the Death Eater's eyes. His voice cold, he asked, "Are you sure?"

Dumbledore may have been stripped of all political power, but he did have quite a bit of magic at his disposal. The motives fit, as well. Heri had researched the man a year ago, taking interest in the fallen Lord's activities. One book in particular, _The Secrets of the Light Lord Dumbledore_, by Rita Skeeter, the infamous reporter, was quite informative. Apparently, the great and virtuous light wizard was friends (or perhaps a bit more) with his worst enemy, the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Since both he and the Dark Lord were getting older, they would need something to return their youth. Therefore, the Philosopher's Stone was taken, and Dumbledore would know how to use it, given his time as an apprentice with the Light Lord Flamel.

"I know only what the Ministry knows, my Lord."

"Then you may leave."

Calling a house elf, he wrote a quick note to Heri.

_We need to talk. Usual place, ASAP._

The return note was short and to the point.

_Alright. I'm free at 15:00._

He burned the sliver of parchment, and, telling the house elf to fetch him a lunch, went back to writing down terms for the new legislation he wanted to pass.

After finishing the sandwich, he apparated to just outside of Hogwarts. He Disillusioned himself, and headed towards the forbidden forest. He walked down to the cave, and arrived in the Chamber of secrets as Heri came down the stairs.

"Why did you need to talk to me?" Heri asked him.

"An issue has come up."

"You mean other than the ones the newspaper kindly informed us of yesterday?" Heri had fallen to the annoying habit of sarcasm lately, and Tom wasn't sure whether he should be amused or annoyed.

"It's related to those." So far, though, he had treated it with indifference.

"So, if you don't mind, oh brilliant and powerful Dark Lord, would you please tell me?"

"_It's Dumbledore,_" he said in Parseltongue. Heri would be the only other person to understand is, this way. He had been curious as to whether the younger man would lose the ability after he had absorbed his Horcrux back, but then he realised that he was being stupid; one can't simply lose a blood trait. Perhaps Heri had a recessive gene that allowed the ability, and his Horcrux simply triggered it. But the more likely explanation was that Parseltongue was like flying a broom, you just didn't forget how to do it.

"_What?_"

"_Are you deaf? I said that the two incidents are caused by a Light Lord greater than me in magical power,_" he snapped, beyond annoyed. This really was a problem that he would rather not deal with. But the implications behind the facts led to the most despairing inferences. It would, once again, be a war for change, a battle between Order, and the only way to restore Balance is Chaos. Magic will not be happy. He would really rather not lose the little favour he gained after following her orders in regard to the Horcruxes.

"_I heard, I heard. But, this, this really gets in the way of our plans, doesn't it?_" Heri fretted needlessly.

"_Well… It really doesn't. We were going to have me glamour up as Voldemort back from the dead anyway, to scare the coward politicians into following my lead._"

Heri's face twitched into the smallest of frowns for a split second, and Tom knew that it wasn't good. Heri normally wouldn't show any emotion, unless it's very strong. "You're just glad that it's one less thing for you to do," he accused. "But did you think about how actual war may bring more bad than good? I mean, normal wars aren't exactly sunshine and rainbows with unicorns galloping around." This was very bad; Heri was annoyed enough to not concentrated on speaking in the snake language.

"What gotten into you today? The last few meetings were all fine, and now you show up, acting as if your little mind Barrier melted and flooded you with foul mood for the rest of eternity!" He had gained every memory his Horcruxes experience, which included half of Heri's life, to the teen's great annoyance.

Heri full-out glared at the older man. "Excuse me if I'm slightly nervous about what's going to happen on Beltane!"

"And what's going to happen on Beltane that you didn't know about the last time we met?"

"I got a letter from Aradia a few days ago. She wants to meet up that night."

"How is that –oh…" Tom would have laughed out loud if it wouldn't have set an angry, hormonal almost-sixteen year old on him. "Ah, and you're nervous." He smiled. "If it helps, it's probably her first time, too."

Heri relaxed by a fraction. "Right." He took a few deep breaths, reorganising his emotions. "_So, Dumbledore._" He had slipped back into Parseltongue. He closed his eyes again, thumbs massaging temples. "_It will be a full-out war._"

"_Yes._" He answered, knowing that it helped Heri's thinking process.

"_Politicians don't like wars,_" Heri continued

"_No, they don't,_" he agreed.

"_They'll look for a leader,_" Heri predicted.

"_That, they will_."

"_And it'll be you,_" pale cloudy eyes blinked open. "_It's perfect!_"

"_Only, Dumbledore and his rescued 'friend' will aim to truly harm, whereas 'Voldemort' will aim at the people hindering our political progress._"

"_Oh, but this is so much more_ interesting_!_"

"_And here you were, preaching about how horrible wars were not five minutes ago._"

"I only want interesting things in my life, and since this is inevitable anyway, why not make the best of it?" Heri defended, falling back into the English of light banter.

"Isn't that what I did? 'Make the best of it?' Hypocrite," he teased.

"It's human nature to be hypocritical, Marvolo."

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Friday, May 31st, 1996_

_20:30_

It was just after dinner, and Heri, Draco, Blaise and Theo were in their dorms. Vincent and Gregory had stayed behind to finish off their desserts. An owl flew in through the open window (despite the common room being in the dungeon, their dorms were, in fact, a level above). It was a great grey, a female with streaks of white and black highlighting and lowlighting the brilliant silvers of her feathers.

"Aurore!" Heri greeted. "What do you have for me today?"

Aurore dropped a flimsy piece of parchment in his lap. Heri tossed her a treat, and read out loud after hissing a password, "To my fellow magicals of the Chaos and the Balance, it is starting; prepare yourselves, signed, your leader."

"It's starting," Heri repeated. "Oh, _shite_!"

"Prepare ourselves? How?" Blaise, as always, was the first to become unfrozen.

At his prompt, Theo started rattling off ideas, "Petition to restart the Dueling club, start a study group focused on dueling and battle strategy, start a practical 'study group' to prefect dueling techniques, ask Professor Snape for help –"

"Theo, what did we say about rhetorical questions?" Draco interrupted.

Theo looked confused for a moment before saying slowly, as if Draco was particularly dull of wit that day, "To not answer –oh," he realised, falling back to silence.

"They're perfectly reasonable solutions, but we need to contact the other Dark or Neutral students," Blaise soothed while Heri panicked. This was way earlier than he had expected. The Light students will rally under Order, since Light magic rarely allied with Chaos, unless it was the naturalists.

"Yes, right." Heri snapped back to attention. "Spread word to other students discreetly. We'll be meeting to discuss battle strategy and dueling. Contact only those you _know_ to be on our side, despite being allied with Dumbledore, some dark Families will still go to Grindelwald because there is still a certain Order to Dark."

"Do you have a list?"

"Yes, actually," Heri replied, pulling out a scroll of parchment and duplicating it. "Fourth year and up, declared allegiance or pledged loyalty." He handed them to Theo and Draco.

"Blaise, you and I are going to persuade the ones who haven't pledged loyalty to either side." He pulled out a significantly shorter list. "Here, pick out the ones you want."

"And, right, meeting," he remembered, "Tell them to meet us behind the greenhouses next Hogsmeade weekend, Saturday."

"We would only have two weeks," Theo reminded, looking at him incredulously.

"This is war, Nott, and we are running out of time."

Blaise had marked down the students he believed he could convince to join the Dark Lord and the mysterious Neutral Lord that surfaced recently (who was actually Heri in disguise), and handed Heri back the list. Heri glanced down at the unmarked names. _Akagi, Sakura; Alton, Pamela; Boot, Terry; Cullen, Lisa; Davies, Roger…_

"You took all the easy ones!" he complained.

"You're the general; you're supposedly more competent," the Italian retorted.

"What do you mean by 'supposedly'?" All he got in response was a grin.

He quickly Duplicated the parchment and handed one back to Blaise. "We start immediately."

The names left on the list were mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were easier to convince in this case and were, therefore, taken by Blaise. Most of the students were Neutral or Light, since the Dark Families had long before been bound to their Lord. They usually had something of their own to bring to the group, whether it was good Family connections or skills of their own. A handful of them declined, though, voicing reasonable excuses. Heri didn't really run into anything interesting until the 'L's, however, and when he did, it was with a particularly infamous Ravenclaw.

"Luna Lovegood, I don't believe we've met," He greeted, adorning his visage with his most charming smile. "I'm Hercule Pilliwickle. Please, call me Heri."

The girl turned around, her hair bobbing in its bun. She looked surprised, for some reason, even though she had agreed to this meeting through letter. When she continued to look that way as she replied, though, Heri realised that it was simply the way her features were set.

"Hello, Heri," she said calmly, almost dreamily. Her grey eyes were startling similar to that of the wandmaker, Ollivander, as Heri remembered from the Weighing of the Wands during the Triwizard Tournament. They were of a pale mercury colour that edged strangely close to white, with a slight hint of ice blue. Her dirty blond hair had the platinum of the Malfoy's mixed with streaks of darker honey and caramel, but the most startling thing about her was the translucent quality of her skin, almost as if she had never been out in the sun.

"I'm glad that you could make it to this meeting," Heri commented, and was about to continue when she replied.

"I didn't have anything else to do," she explained. "Nobody wanted to help me with an assignment I didn't understand."

Heri froze slightly. Perhaps it was the dreamy aura that Luna had around her, or perhaps the way she stated it, but there was an undertone of truth that Heri couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at. "I could help you with it after this, if you would like." Yes, offers of help usually warm people up to a stranger.

"That would be wonderful, Heri." Luna smiled at him, eyes slightly unfocused, giving the kind expression a creepy note. "You had said that this meeting would contain certain… sensitive topics. May I inquire as to what they are?"

Heri gave a short nod, and set to ward off the empty classroom they were in. When he finished, he turned back to her. "Would you mind speaking an oath to never disclose any of the following conversation to anyone without my permission?"

He couldn't tell what she thought of the request, but she complied with the same expression she always wore. He started with asking her questions.

"So, Luna, I was wondering about your magical affiliation. When I checked the records, your Family was under unknown."

Her expression didn't even change. "The Lovegood's have a recessive magic affiliation, so we were not registered."

"And what of your mother? Surely she would have told you her affiliation."

"She passed away when I was nine." Heri believed that he had found his match in unreadable looks.

"I am so sorry," Heri said reflexively. "What was her maiden name?"

"Daddy never told me." Luna's eyes suddenly sharpened and focused on him. "You want something. Please don't circle around it."

Heri sighed. "The problem is, war is starting. Light Lord Dumbledore and Dark Lord Grindelwald has taken up arms to cast Order upon the world. The Balance is off."

"And you need help." It was as if a spell had been cancelled, but Luna was suddenly very alert and very Ravenclaw.

"Yes," he admitted.

She smiled truly for the first time since they met up. "You're very lucky to have found me, then." She turned her eyes to his grey-green ones for the first time and almost pulled his Legilimens self into her mind. He was guided through swirling bits of fog that he assumed had the same functions as his Space Continuum. Luna's mind-self was a radiant figure of silver, reminiscent of Pensieve fluid or Patronus light. Heri knew from his instructor that he was a figure of glass, with different colours twirling inside.

They stopped at a large skull that was very obscured by the mist. _Come in,_ Luna said, floating through an eye socket. If Heri found it disturbing, he didn't voice it. Inside, all was dark. Only the luminescent quality of Luna's figure led him to her. She led him downwards, and Heri marveled at the genius of the Occlumency design; any Legilimens would simply retreat because places like this would usually contain traps.

The dark slowly faded as they rushed down, morphing into a forest. It was a strange forest, however, since nothing in it was alive. The barren trees were laden with sparkling pieces of jewellery, which Heri assumed were more distracting memories. They eventually arrived at a rook-like house of stone. They entered and went up the stair, entering a bedroom. She took a book off of the shelf, and, stepping closer to Heri, opened it to a certain page.

_Suddenly, he was in a memory. It was in a clearing in a forest, and a young Luna Lovegood crouched in front of a small white creature. Sitting on the opposite side was a woman. Her hair was a pure honey blond with glints of strawberry when it hit the sun. She shared the same eyes and skin with what could only be her daughter._

"_I'm sorry, my moon," a soft voice said quietly, "but he's gone."_

"_But he wasn't supposed to die, Mommy!" Heri saw unshed tears welling in Luna's eyes. She looked back down at the pile of fur. "Wrackspurt. Wasn't. _Supposed._ To die!"_

_The rabbit, as he now realised, suddenly moved. Blinking open pink eyes, it took a few steps forwards. Luna gasped and her mother stared at her. No doubt that the elder blond saw that same thing Heri did; a trail of dark silver leading from Luna to the beloved pet. On a different note, Heri saw that her mother didn't seem in the slightest surprised._

The memory ended and Heri came back to the bedroom. _Do you understand, now?_ Luna asked.

_Yes._

They left Luna's mind and went back to the classroom. Heri blinked. "You're, you're a –"

"Yes." She smiled serenely.

"But that means…"

"Yes." The smile turned positively smug.

"Hogsmeade weekend, Saturday at ten, behind the greenhouses. And meet me in an hour for help in the library." Heri left in a flap of robes, mind spinning from the revelation. He quickly re-planned his part of the battle preparations.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, June 15th, 1996_

_10:00_

Heri was in his guise as the Neutral Lord, or as the public called him now, Lord Cygnus. He had made a golem to take his actual place as Heri Pilliwickle. The students of the alliance had gathered around him in silent awe.

"This is not a good meeting place, I'm afraid," Heri announced in the gravelly voice he assumed in that costume. He turned and headed deep into the Forbidden Forest, and the stunned people followed. They arrived at a large cave and Heri sent a few witch-lights to illuminate the place. It was dry and ideal for a secret meeting. He quickly transfigured loose boulders into stone tables and chairs for the mass, and settled down in front of them.

"Now," he began, drawing all attention to his cloaked figure. "You are here because you have sworn allegiance to either Chaos or Balance. You are here to fight for your magic, which you will lose if Order conquers all." Murmurs of agreement rang out. "You know the what, but do you know the why?" At the confused look of a few, he elaborated. "Do you know why your Family swore allegiance to me and Lord Slytherin? Do you know why your magic cannot thrive under Order?" Barely whispering, he asked the question few of them could answer, "Do you know what Order means? What Chaos, Balance, Light, Dark, and Neutral means?"

Contrary to when he asked the first two questions, the students did not quietly discuss their knowledge. Instead, they stared, mesmerised by the magic they felt floating in the air. "You know only that you should fight, that you must fight, but do you know _why_ you should? _Why_ you must?" He paused, not expecting an answer, but proving a point.

"Order is a quality that some types of magic have. It is what allows us to know how many grams of crushed amethyst goes into the Brew of Beauty. It is what allows wandmakers know how long a channel of yew and unicorn hair should be. It is absolutely necessary in magic. But Order is also what Dumbledore and Grindelwald is preaching to the world. It is what they will achieve if they win. It is what leads them to manipulation, to compulsion, to tying the world in a pretty little knot and confining everyone to a category.

"Chaos is a quality that some types of magic have. It is what we use when we determine what the pattern on a transfigured teapot should be. It is what happens when a young wizard is angry and his magic lashes out in accidental magic. It is absolutely necessary in magic. But Chaos is also what Voldemort preached fourteen years ago during his reign of terror. It is what he could have achieved through pure magical force. It is what lead him to tearing his very soul apart to gain mindless immortality, to complete meltdown of the confinement between wizards and Muggles.

"Now, both of these exist in Magic. Both of these have desirable and undesirable results. Neither is right; neither is wrong. They are simply different aspects of Magic. What helps us determine how much of each aspect goes into each art, however, is the Balance. The Balance tells a Seer how much she should pry into the future. The Balance is the point of peace between two warring opinions. It is what we are trying to maintain in this war." As he was speaking Heri had pushed all the magic he could into the speech, showing everyone the innocent truth of his words.

"Dark, Light, and Neutral, however, are completely different ways of classifying things. They are also aspects of Magic. Most Light Families deal with Order, but the extreme naturalists that also fall under Light belong to Chaos. Neutral magic, though sounds as if they should be under extremely Balanced arts of magic, are actually those that deal almost completely in Order _or_ Chaos. Of course, some very specific Families of Neutral are also the most Balanced. Dark magic, now, also tend to be mostly Chaos, but there are types like curse weaving that are completely Order." He smiled under his hood.

"You have all probably heard your parents talk to you about your Family affiliation, whether it is Dark, or Neutral, or even Light, for some of you. Do any of you know why that is, though?" He got more puzzled looks. "Dark magic is defined by one thing, sacrifice. Their method is to risk the lives of the unimportant to save the one of power, same for the less severe things. Light magic is defined by sacrifice also. Their method is to risk the life of a powerful to save the lives of all. That shows that their priorities are opposite, but not which one is right. Neutral magic is defined by tolerance. They are anti-nothing. They simply are the one unbiased basis for this. There are other things that define these three classifications, too, but those aren't too important right now." He finished explaining in under five minutes.

"Now, you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this. Why is this important? You're asking within your minds." He stood up. "That is because all of you must understand yourself properly and you comrades properly for us to win this war. I want you to not try to inflict your opinion on the rest of the world and listen to the world for a moment. Understand why your enemies are doing what they are doing, and fight them not because they are evil, but because they think you're evil. Fight them not because they are wrong, but because they think you are wrong. Because there is no good and evil, only differences in opinions. Because there is no true right and wrong, only what is and what isn't."

He sat back down, signalling the end of the speech. When they turned away from him, he Disillusioned himself and walked away, listening cheerfully as the students discovered him gone.

As he left the cave, though, he ran into no other than Luna Lovegood. She didn't appear to be affected by the charm and dragged him to the side. No one paid attention to her antics, as they were used to her strangeness.

"Good speech, Heri," she complimented.

He froze. "How –"

She smiled. "I can't be fooled, Heri. You of all people should know that. It is the reason for my curse."

Heri smiled grimly, and took off his disguise as they walked towards the castle. He shortened his legs and Vanished the cloak, cancelling the Disillusionment last.

"True," he agreed. "Listen, we haven't had much time to talk, lately, and I was wondering if you would come with me to Lord Slytherin. He showed interest in meeting one like you."

"Of course," she replied easily. "I'm mostly free during the summer. That is when you mean to properly train this band of infants, no?"

"You realise that you're one of the youngest."

"Only in age, Heri, only in age," she countered.

"Your knowledge and experience in enviable."

"Everything comes at a price, Heri; you will do well to refrain from hopes like that. If you're not careful, your wish may be granted."

"I have too much good luck to know the meaning of careful."

"Perhaps her favour leads only to carelessness," Luna sneered. "And before you go on to defend your lady's honour, I'm allowed to be angry at her. She made me into this."

"Power would lose its prestige if it came easily."

"I didn't ask for this."

"It would be boring if you did."

"I prefer boredom to this."

"You would," he agreed, smiling sadly.


	9. Chapter 7: Stop at the Edge

Chapter 7: Stop at the Edge

_There must always be a time  
__When things start to fall apart.  
__Always know where lies the edge  
__Of limits, spirit, and heart._

_For you must know when to stop,  
__Or life lasts not long for you.  
__To know the edge, and stop there  
__Is the smartest thing to do._

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, June 15th, 1996_

_19:00_

"Stop doing that!" Heri complained, putting up a Shield Charm to block Draco's spell. "It's annoying, and it feels like someone crashed through my Occlumency barriers to twist my mind in circles."

"It's only the True Name Spell. Besides, Flitwick hinted that it might be in our O.W.L.s," the blond defended, casting one at the unsuspecting Theo. White, glowing letters appeared above his head, reading Theodore 'Theo' Nott IX.

"See? You can do it, so you don't need to practise anymore," Heri quickly mollified. Draco had been having troubles with the spell for a few classes, now, and he's been quite restless when the Charms professor told them to make sure they had it. He had anticipated this event and had escaped the disaster of it by creating some complex illusions during the classes they first learned the spell, but they have worn off in the week that has passed.

"False," Theo said as he glanced up at the letters. "I'm the eighth, not the ninth." Draco scowled, and aimed at Gregory.

Gregory Gerald Goyle

"Gerould is spelt with 'O-U', not 'A'," the recipient corrected.

Vincent Alexander Crabbe

"You forgot a middle name."

Vincent Alexander Jason Crabbe

"It's Jacob, actually."

Draco let out a yell of annoyance, aiming at Blaise.

Blaise Apollo Zabini

Blaise simply said, "Wrong!" without even looking up.

"How do you know?"

Blaise looked at the blond, raising an eyebrow. "Try again."

Blaise Apollonius Zabini

"Wrong!" Draco scowled and made the universal gesture for giving up; he threw his hands in the air and collapsed.

Taking pity, Blaise stood and said, "Here, concentrate on revealing the name. It's like reading a book in a language that you don't quite understand. Try not to bother too much with the movement or the incantation, just the intent." He aimed at the unsuspecting Heri.

Hercule 'Heri' James Potter-Pilliwickle

Time stopped. Silence reigned supreme. Heri looked up, confused at the lack of noise, and seeing everyone staring at the space above his head, looked up. He froze for a second before cursing the door shut and warding it. In the blink of an eye, he was standing with his wand out.

"You will tell _no one_ of this." Heri could see the gears turning in his friends' minds, trying to figure out everything.

Vincent and Gregory still had confused looks on them, and Heri scowled. "_Obliviate, Obliviate, Stupefy, Stupefy_," He intoned.

Turning back to the larger security risks, he ordered, "Swear you won't."

"But –" Theo managed, stumbling over his voice. "You –you're –no, it can't –but," he stuttered.

"Eloquent as ever, my dear friend." Heri drawled, not relaxing his stance. "Now I know why you're not a Ravenclaw; you never could deal with information dumped on you. Oh, don't look at me like that. You like learning well enough, but you want to control what you learn. Ignorance is –"

"I did this spell on you in class!" Blaise frowned, coming out of his silence. "Does that mean I was doing it wrong?"

"Spell-activated illusion. It had to be the right spell, or else it would have read as 'Heri Pilliwickle' or 'Hercules Pilliwickle', which was the incantation-and-magic-activated illusion," he explained easily. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "You have no idea how tedious the Arithmancy was…"

He had trailed off since he noticed Draco's shaking. A pale hand covered the boy's face, which was lowered to look at his lap. Blond hair trembled around his hidden visage. Heri worried for a moment before realising that the boy was laughing silently.

Sensing the stare, Draco glanced up, face full of mirth. "The Boy Who Lived," he said in between now-audible chuckles. "Father would never believe it… Oh, the look on people's faces when they realise that you're helping the Dark Lord…" His laughter was positively hysterical, now.

"Draco," Heri began carefully, "are you alright? Draco? Draco!" His only response was increasingly insane noise and he relaxed slightly, casting a Sobering Charm on his friend. Draco straightened up instantly, and, remembering his actions, blushed in a pale magenta.

"Sorry," he replied. "Black inheritance," he said as explanation but didn't go on to elaborate until Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. "Insane cackling whenever our brains can't handle things. Blame Mother."

Uncomfortable silence fell again, disrupted only by the loud breathing of Gregory and Vincent.

"So… Oaths?"

"I've never had so many secrets before I met you," Blaise grumbled, scowling darkly. Despite, he complied with the request, selecting words with no loopholes. Theo and Draco followed, borrowing the phrasing.

Over the next few days, Heir seemed even more cautious than usual and the three Slytherins didn't comment. It wasn't until Friday that the incident was mentioned again.

"'Heri' James Potter," Blaise said that evening. Gregory and Vincent were in detention with Professor Snape, and it was only them, Draco, and Theo in the dorm room.

Draco quickly warded the room, a habit that he had picked up from Heri.

"Harry Potter," Blaise said again, emphasising the 'A' with widely parted lips.

Theo finally looked up from his textbook, and commented in a very unusual manner (for Theo, at least), "Yes, Heri, do tell us how this came to be."

Draco was the last to look back at Heri expectantly. "You _do_ owe us an explanation."

Heri had frozen on his bed, staring down at the parchment in his lap. He finally looked up, though, a few seconds after Draco stopped speaking. His face was blank. Someone who knew him as well as the three Slytherins would know that it was too blank. He stopped in that position for a moment before sagging in his position, legs straightening slowly from their formerly drawn up angle and head tilting back to rest on the wall.

"I do," he admitted, and started to tell his story at the even more insistent looks the three friends gave him.

"As you all know, Dumbledore took me from my parents' (my birth parents') cottage that Samhain night. I have not yet figured out what exactly happened, but Mother found me in a Muggle orphanage –"

"_Muggle_ orphanage?" Draco asked with a sneer.

"Mother received a tip from a claire-voyante when she revealed that she was barren. She was told to look through Surrey and her heart's desire will appear in the most unexpected of places."

"But I suppose that you don't know who dared put a wizard in a _Muggle_ orphanage," Draco reinforced his disgust with anything Muggle. Heri only glared his answer.

"It was the June before I turned three. She got Grandmother to help, and we moved to our French estates. We went through an adoption ritual the Litha that followed. I am a true Pilliwickle, and Magic recognises that," he stated firmly, then looked around for questions.

"The Dark Lord," Blaise said suddenly. "Does he know?"

"Yes, he is the only other, apart from you three."

"And Aradia?" asked Theo sardonically.

"No, and you are not to tell her. _I_ will," he insisted, "on Lammas, right before we finish courting officially and start the engagement negotiations." and that was the last they spoke of the matter for quite a while.

* * *

_Maison à la Vue de l'Océan, Unplottable Location, France_

_Thursday, August 1st, 1996_

_11:00_

Heri suddenly lost his sight as hands covered them from behind. The only thing that stopped him from attacking was the lips that suddenly latched themselves onto the side of his neck. He turned around and met them.

"Ari," he said when he came back up for air. "_Could we talk?_" he asked in French.

"_Of course,_" she responded in the same language and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

Heri fidgeted awkwardly. "_In private, please?_"

She tensed, but nodded, heading inside with him. They positioned themselves in Heri's rooms, and she waited.

"_I've, I've kept a few secrets from you,_" he started. When she didn't say anything, he continued, "_I just thought that you had a right to know. I mean, it's only fair for you to know what you getting into._" He was babbling, but he didn't care or notice. "_I'm not who you think I am._"

She just stared at him with those unsettling black eyes, face carefully blank.

"_I was actually born Harry Potter._" He waited.

"_I know._"

"_I'm very sorry that I didn't tell you, but I –sorry, excuse me?_"

She flashed a contrite smile his way. "_I know, Heri._" She put up a finger as he opened his mouth. "_I haven't exactly been truthful to you, either. In fact, my secret is almost as important as yours._" Her words were laced with unbearable sadness, and Heri couldn't help but feel an impendent sense of doom.

"_You, like many others, have pieced together that the Family of Féale is hiding something. As Maman told everyone on your seventh Birthday, our ancestress worked in close concert with Merlin. Many assume that she was Nimue or Igraine, since Morgana was long ago pronounced to be without heirs. That is true, since her line never included any heirs._"

She paused, looking at him with an unfathomable expression as he mulled over the phrasing. 'Her line' would indicate more than just a few wizards. "_Have you ever wondered why the __Féa__le__ line didn't die out since it's one of the few strictly matriarchal or patriarchal lines?_" She shook her head. "_No, of course not, we did put a Notice-Me-Not Charm-Web on it, after all._" She sighed. "_There is a curse on our line to only ever produce girls._" At his continued puzzled look, she sighed yet again. She started scratching her last name into the air, and Heri got a sickening wave of repetition.

Féale

She waved her wand.

la Fée

He froze, eyes suddenly filled with understanding.

"_I'm sorry; I'm so sorry._" She stumbled through her apologies, eyes pained and welling quickly with tears.

He grabbed a hold of her hands, kissing the fingertips softly while looking up at her. "_It's fine,_" he comforted. "_It doesn't matter._"

She bit her lips into a thin line. "_But there's more._"

His feature became guarded again, but he held on to her hands.

"_Morgana's child, Vivian, not only helped her mother fall Merlin by seducing him, but also became impregnated by him. She came upon the knowledge that a son of the la F__é__e line could bring destruction to Magic herself, Vivian did a ritual to bring only heiresses to her and her descendants,_" she elaborated.

"_The way she came upon the knowledge, though, that's what we have been hiding all this time._"

She took a deep breath, calming herself. "_We are a line known to produce many claire-voyantes, averaging one Seer every six births, each one born to a Prophet. There is a great number of Oracles, too, one in every twenty births, far more than any other Family._" She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her formerly black irises were a swirling pool of that colour. That colour that was the same one that Magic was draped in that time he met her. That colour that was everything and nothing at the same time.

"_What we try to hide, though, is that every single one of us is an Omniscient_." She blinked, and the colour disappeared. "_Yes, Heri,_" she answered the incredulous gaze he gave her, "_every one of us is an Omniscient, the kind of Omniscient that would be produced should one go through the so-called cursed ritual, the ritual that made everyone who used it become crazy._" He lowered their hands to her lap, but still did not let go. His face became even more devoid of emotion.

"_If the stories Maman told me were correct, then this is due to the fact that Morgana herself went through the ritual. Morgana herself went through the ritual with the blessing and blood of Queen Titania. She met Magic, and Magic gifted her and her children with this gift._

"_Magic even gifted her with control over the gift in return for not seeking to know the Future-that-is-Certain. Magic also said that anyone who carried Morgana's Name and blood would receive this gift. That's why we dared only rearrange the letters of our Family name._" She paused, and then tentatively whispered, "_That's how I knew of your secret._"

He let go of her hands gently to run his own fingers through his hair, ruffling it. "_I'm glad you told me, Aradia._" She tensed; he had rarely used her full name unless he was being formal, and formal was not good at a time like this, very not-good.

"_But –_"

"_Maman always told me that there was always a 'but',_" she interrupted wistfully.

"_But,_" he reinforced, "_I need time._" He stood up. "_I'm sorry, we could continue the courting later if I can come to terms with this, but I'll need time._"

She smiled sadly. "_It's almost twelve. Let's tell them that this courting stands to be finished before they make the ritual preparations irreversible._"

Heri nodded absently and parted swiftly from the room. His head was churning with thoughts as emotions fluttered past him. Aradia had told him a grave secret, and she didn't even ask for an oath from him. That showed her trust in him, so he should be happy. Shouldn't he? If so, then why did he feel so betrayed? Why did he feel so angry? It was so hypocritical of him to feel that way, since his secret was almost as grave as hers.

_But that didn't matter; did it?_ the corner of his mind asked him. _You never did have to tell her. She knew already. She knows everything already._

_Shut up,_ he told it, _that's irrelevant._

_Is it, now…_

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Saturday, September 21st, 1996_

_17:30_

"Are you sure about this?" Luna asked, pale eyes boring into his as if she was about to dive into his mind. She could, and he doubted that even he could stop her, but she didn't.

"Yes," he replied, trying as much to convince himself as to convince her.

"What aspect of her do you want, then?"

"The aspect you're the most attuned to."

She raised an eyebrow. "It's a busy night for that aspect."

His mind swirled, _but that would mean…_ "Oh… The one that's least likely to damn me on sight, then," he said, trying to figure out if there was any aspect of her that would be content in the presence of a male.

Luna smiled. It was a predictable request, considering the subject of the conversation. "Alright, go stand in the middle, I'll draw a circle."

He moved to the spot she indicated as she started to walk in circles around him. She left behind trails of pure magic as she went around once, twice… seven times in total. When she finally finished, she came to stand before Heri and chanted in an oddly detached voice. "On this Day of Power, at the Time of Old, by the power of my Soul, in the name of Magic, I hereby pray to the goddess of wisdom. Please, goddess, aid the man in front of me, for, O goddess of battle, he is going to war."

In one quick motion, she threw her hands open, perpendicular to her body, and looked up to the sky. "He wishes to speak to you, goddess, and I offer my body to your spirit. By the ichor that flows in my veins, please show me a sign of your acceptance." A parliament of owls flooded the sky, and Luna raised her hands as if holding a platter above her head. "Thank you, Athena, I offer you my body."

The sky cleared as Heri felt a drain in his magic. Luna's hands fell and her head snapped forwards, eyes blinking open to stormy grey. Her pupils and eye whites were gone, leaving behind marble-like orbs of dark storms.

"Why do you call me here, Mortal?" the goddess-possessed Luna said, voice echoing powerfully through the Forbidden Forest.

"I seek help against those-who-seek-to-rule-with-Order, my Lady Athena."

"I could offer many things to help you, but most of the advice, you already know and most of the aid, you can already achieve without divine intervention." The sentence was structured to sound curious, but her voice carried no emotion.

"We fight to regain Balance in the world, my Lady Athena. We will fail if aid is not given."

"It is true that the opponent has an advantage in numbers, but you can succeed through power." She paused. "I will give you one clue on how to find that power." He waited. "Go to your parents' graves and find the symbol of you ancestor. Remember that legends are always based on truth."

Luna suddenly slumped down, closing her eyes. The magic in the circle snapped close to cocoon around its owner. As the magic sank into her glowing skin, Luna slowly stood up. When her eyes opened, they were back to usual.

"That was not fun," she commented, grimacing slightly.

"Did you hear?"

"Of course, it did happen in my body."

"Do you know what she meant, then?"

"No, sorry. Perhaps look into the Potter line to find an ancestor that was buried near your parents and look at ones with famous symbols."

"How did you –"

"Again, Heri, you forget," she admonished coldly. Before he could say another word, she quickly lead the way out of the clearing. "It's almost dinner; we wouldn't want to be late."

Heri sighed. What was is with girls and mood swings? Better yet, why do things always happen to him? Good luck or bad, between his wrongdoings and other people's, he'll be burned in a storm of rage before he ever nears his goal.


	10. Chapter 8: Edge of Reality

Chapter 8: Edge of Reality

_ Reality. Such a vague word, is it  
__not? What, exactly, is reality, do  
__you know? What differences are __there_

_between real and not real? How  
__can you tell the between dream  
__and life? What is true and what __is_

_false? Who can define what is  
__possible and what is not? When  
__will people see that this is all of __no_

_consequence at all? The definite  
__meaning of reality, I mean. How  
__can Man be so stupid as to think __such_

_nonsense is important? Because  
__what is real today might change  
__tomorrow, and almost any little __thing_

_that we think of as fact could be  
__actually fake. Truth and lies do  
__change, and dreams do not stay __as_

_dreams forever, so all we can do  
__is damn all the unbelievers who  
__think that certain things are just __impossible._

_Because, there is no such thing as impossible._

* * *

_The Home of the Noble and Most Ancient Family of Slytherin, Unplottable Location, Eastern England_

_Saturday, September 21st, 1996_

_19:00_

"Lord Slytherin," Heri greeted as Lord Cygnus. Tom had planned a banquet this Mabon festival, it being the first time Slytherin Family was charged with the celebrations of a Day of Power.

"Lord Cygnus," he replied.

Heri was slightly nervous about this night, since it would be the first time Lord Cygnus would be seen publicly at a social event. Before, he had just been a figure that was attached to several powerful keystones brought to a few famous structures as donations. Those keystones had taken Heri a large amount of power and time to make, and the Ministry recognised the value and skill of them.

Eyes stared at the exchange. Heri hadn't planned to come last, but apparently most people came early. As Tom led him towards his table, the looks suddenly became sharper. Heri was to be seated at the host's table, a place of family and close friends.

He lowered his hood, revealing the glamour he had on. Heri had chosen a plain face for this persona, with common aristocratic features the Wizarding World. His colouring were as opposite as possible from his actual face, with bronze hair and clear, blue eyes. He would tell others that he was a few years older than Tom, putting him in his early twenties. He would refrain from answering any and all questions about his heritage, revealing only that he was a Lord.

The feast began quickly with the usual light chatter, and it wasn't until desserts came up that Heri was asked a question of any personal degree.

They had been talking about mutual friends when the Minister asked, "Speaking of connections, Lord Slytherin, I had not known that you were on such friendly terms with our mysterious Lord Cygnus, here."

"We met when I was young," Heri cut in before Tom could say anything.

"Yes," Tom agreed readily, "We have kept correspondence since then, meeting occasionally."

Heri should have known that Tom would be as cautious as he; one never knew if another had way of detecting falsities.

"Oh?" Fudge questioned lightly, but no one replied.

After a few seconds of admiring the fruit plate, the Minister turned back to Heri. "So, Lord Cygnus," he said, "Where were you educated?"

It was a common game for adults to compare schools, furthering international hostilities, since there was only, on average, one school per country. Schools were preferred for any renowned professors, but were honoured more for any exceptional alumni.

Heri froze; he had not thought about this beforehand. "I'd rather not reveal that, for I do hope to stay continually as anonymous as possible," he said stiffly.

"Oh?" the man replied, sounding curious.

Heri smiled, "Yes, why else would I be making use glamours to a Day of Celebration? One would have a need to show such disrespect." As realisation dawned on the minister, Heri sighed mentally; that Magical Britain has fallen to the point of having a Minister of Magic that can't sense the most rudimentary of glamours was simply shameful. He really did need to raise a certain sense of unrest within the Wizengamot so that they could make a vote of mistrust to start an election. Maybe he would mention it to Tom later.

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unplottable Location, Scotland_

_Thursday, October 31st, 1996_

_18:45_

"Come on!" Heri said as he pulled the younger witch along. They were in the Forbidden Forest, and Luna had wanted to play with the thestrals for a bit.

"Can't I just –"

"No," Heri said firmly. "One doesn't keep the Dark Lord waiting."

Luna's eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

"Yet why do I have the feeling that you don't care in the slightest?" Heri muttered.

"Because you are a very intelligent person?" Luna retorted, but acquiesced to the impatient tugs.

"You should be glad that the Dark Lord wanted to meet you."

"It's only because of my lineage, anyway. Why should I care if a mere mortal wanted to suck up to my mother?"

Heri stayed quiet. He still hadn't told Tom of Luna's exact origins, and he still wanted to see the sock that would come to pass when the 'mere mortal' realised.

"Besides," Luna continued, "Tom Marvolo Riddle is doing quite well by himself; he doesn't need divine intervention."

"You'd be surprised." He didn't even bother asking how the blond came to know of Tom's name.

"Why do I need to come to the graves, anyway? It's your parents, and it's your ancestor. Also –"

"Shut up or I will Silence you."

Luna frowned. _Like that could keep me from communication._

Heri sighed. "Please stop whining?"

When they reached the entrance, Heri hissed, "_Open,_" and gestured for Luna to go in as he followed and lit the way.

Tom was already waiting for them when they arrived, and bowed to Luna when he saw her. "Lady Lovegood," he greeted.

Luna looked into his eyes as she curtseyed, "My Lord Voldemort." Heri felt the magic spring from the frozen body of Luna to Tom. It lasted for a second before the girl straightened.

"It appears that Heri was misleading me. I had believed that you knew of my lineage."

Tom just stood there, gaping. "Your mother, she was –she was a goddess. You're a demi-immortal."

"It appears so."

Tom scowled at Heri. "Grab my arms," he told the two students and the disappeared with a crack.

When they appeared at the graveyard of Gordric's Hollow, night had already fallen and the chill bit through the thin school robes easily. Heri conjured a cloak when he saw Luna shudder.

"Thank you."

They stayed silent as they walked around until Heri, very quietly, commented, "You know, I've actually never been to my parents' graves."

Luna smiled softly. She pressed her hand slowly to the frost-coated grass, and waited. It first started with little sprouts, but soon the cracks between her fingers were filled with roses as a circle of grass wilted. She presented them to Heri, who took them cautiously.

"Thank you."

As Heri spread the bouquet over the headstones, Luna walked down the aisle. Part of him knew that his path now was important, and that he would never trade it for anything, but the idealistic part of him had always wondered what might have happened if his parents had survived. Perhaps he would be a man completely different from what he was, or perhaps not.

A sudden gasp startled him from his reverie.

"Peverell," Luna called. "Do you know if you are descendent from him?"

"I'm not certain."

"Has the Potters ever had any heirlooms, then?" she asked persistently.

"I don't know! It's not as if I ever really got raised as a Potter!" he exclaimed. "Tom?"

"I had heard whispers of an invisibility cloak," the Dark Lord replied.

"Ha!" At the other two's insistent looks, she continued. "That should be true, since it would certainly make sense." They just stared. "Have you ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

At the shakes of their heads, Luna prompted, "The Tale of the Three Brothers, the ones that met Death, who gave them the Wand of Elder, the Stone of Resurrection, and the Cloak of Invisibility?"

"A children's tale," Tom scoffed.

"Yet the goddess of wisdom told us to remember the origin of legends," Heri trailed off pensively.

Luna smiled. "All stories have a common base of truth." They stayed silent for a moment before, "Do you have access to your Family vault, Heri?" Luna asked.

"No, just my trust. I'm not the Heir, so I doubt –"

"The Potter Family vault," Tom interrupted. Though unsaid, the silent 'idiot' was implicitly obvious.

"Hmm. I should. All I need is my blood, supposedly."

"I'll leave that to you, then. Where do we find the Stone? The wand would have to be researched, but the stone might have become an heirloom."

Luna's head suddenly snapped backwards. When she straightened again, her eyes were that marble grey of the last time she was possessed by the goddess of battle. "That, Tom Marvolo Riddle, would be closer to your roots than others."

As she slumped back, Heri rushed to support her. "Merlin, Mordred, and Morgana, she is creepy when that happens."

"About that, exactly who is her mother?" Tom asked.

"I'm not entirely certain, but, given that she can redistribute life, can grow roses without seeds, and that her mother can be in the aspect of Athena, including that her mother is rather busy on the Autumn Equinox, I can safely assume that she is the child of Persephone, or perhaps Proserpine."

"Proserpina and Minerva, hmm? Then that being includes Diana and Vesta for aspects as well…"

"Yes, although I'm inclined to think Greek, as she used 'Athena' to summon during the ritual," Heri corrected.

"Yes," Luna muttered, startling them both. "Mummy was Greek." She blinked open her pale eyes. "I speak the language fluently, you know."

"… That's wonderful," Tom commented, not really knowing what else to say.

"Oh, it is! It's wonderful when you speak and no one else can understand you, since the Greek I learned is as archaic when compared to modern Greek as Anglo-Saxon compared to American English." She stopped suddenly, realising that the perks of the mentioned language presented a moot point to the two parselmouths. "It's also quite helpful in rituals. If you create one, it's good to use a layer of runes or characters as base, and then inscribe a descriptive phrase into the points or the shape, for extra precision. The phrase usually works the best when it's an old, old, tongue." Luna smiled to herself mysteriously.

Heri frowned at her. Why would he need to know something like that?

* * *

_Chateau Féale, Unplottable Location, France_

_Saturday, December 14, 1996_

_08:45_

"Alright, everyone!" Heri announced. "Today, we are working on your focus. There should be enough dummies for everyone, so grab one and stand ten feet away." He demonstrated the approximate distance on the stage. Almost the entire Hogwarts population that fought on their side of the upcoming war were gathered in the Obsidian Ballroom of the castle. There had been people in and out during the summer months, but the training sessions had been inconsistent. Now, aside from the normal drills, they were also doing group drills, especially those of how soldiers listened to commanders.

"Now," Aradia's ringing voice took over. Her accent had improved much during the past few years, but a slight lilt could still be heard. "Your goal is to obtain as many points as you can until you are down." To demonstrate, Heri cast a few spells and stopped. A few seconds later, a red beam emitted from the fake wand to splash against Heri's prepared shield.

"You may doge or block the _Stupefy_, and your time is up only when you are actually out." He grinned mirthfully, "The catch, now, is that you may not use the same spell twice, or you start over with the points. Also, you can only use each spell at a maximum of three times, with exceptions to _Bombarda, Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus, _and_ Stupefy_, which you can use once each for every ten spells. Any points that would have been scored with the spells used over this maximum would not be counted. This rule is only valid for offensive spells. Anything you use to protect yourself from the stunners can be used as many times as you want." Heri finished. As Aradia waved her wand to activate the dummies, he commanded, "Begin!"

As shouts hit the air, Heri descended to walk down the rows of trainees, watching their progress. As he saw some very disconcerting patterns forming, he frowned and shouted over the noise, "Keep in mind that the point of this drill is to be unpredictable!" _And to learn focus_, he added silently. He had purposefully kept down any barriers in between different students to make sure that excess spells that missed the target would not be blocked. This was the first step towards simulating a battle sequence, and raised the awareness of the students for spells from an outside party.

As students began to fall from spells other than their dummies', the smarter ones began to back against the walls to limit the need of peripheral vision. In five minutes, only a quarter of the beginning number stood and they soon started to lose focus and spells would not form as easily. The last one standing was, surprisingly, Luna, who was idly waving her hand and wand at the same time, causing lights to hit her target over and over. She wasn't even saying anything. Heri groaned. "Why do you even bother doing this? It's not like you need it."

The girl ignored him, continuing to blast spells with a slightly manic look in her eyes. "Luna? Luna!"

When she didn't respond, Heri Banished the dummy and turned it off. Luna turned towards him, eyes ablaze. He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. Luna blinked, and fell back in her regular expression.

"You terrify me, sometimes," he said.

"I apologize."

He smiled at the blank tone. "Would you like to help _Rennervate_ everyone?" She nodded and set off to work.

As nine ringing chimes filled the air, Tom glided in. "_Melodramatic much?_" Heri scoffed affectionately in Parseltongue as the Dark Lord passed him. He was rewarded with a scowl when Tom turned his head.

Tom waited until everyone was awake before starting. "Now, the exercise you all just did had three main objectives. First, it was to see how quickly you could continually cast spells. Second, it was to see how long it took for you to start messing up your spells. Third, it was to simulate a battle sequence where not only you and your opponent matter, but also the spells from outside parties might have ricocheted off of a shield or missed its intended target.

"Your 'points' have been recorded and been delivered to your various rooms, whether you are staying here or with another ally. For the rest of the Yuletide holidays, this drill will occur at this time for every day but for the solstice itself and the day after. Eventually, you will be sorted into balanced teams to do mock battles. The next drill will be individual dueling. Please go to Demoiselle Aradia or Mr. Pilliwickle to find out your partner and location."

* * *

**Epic AN:**

Okay. That was better than I'd imagined. But it still feels weird. I will try to write more during the holidays, but if I don't update again before the end of January, don't expect any until late June.

If anyone is interested in beta-ing, please message me as soon as possible or leave a comment below with your contact information.

For the omake/deleted scenes thing, I have two discarded scenes, so if you want me to make a separate thing for that... Oh, I also have files for Heri's schedule throughout the years and a bit of his house's floor plan.

The next pairing will be Luna/Heri. Any objections will be duly noted. After that, we'll see.

Lastly, should I make a forum in the forum section for review responses? (I'll still PM you with it, but some of you have interesting questions/clarifications and others still have disabled PM or are guest reviewers.)


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